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SINCLAIR 


KING   MIDAS 

fl    Uoiuaiur 


By 

UPTON  SINCLAIR 


CHARLES    M.   RELYEA 


I  dreamed  that  Soul  might  dare  the  pain, 

Unlike  the  prince  of  old, 
And  wrest  from  heaven  the  fiery  touch 

That  turns  all  things  to  gold. 


gork  anU 

Funk  &  Wagnalls  Company 
1901 


Copyright,  1 901,  by 
UPTON     SINCLAIR. 


Registered  at  Stationers'  Hall,  London,  England, 

[Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America.] 
Published  in  October,  J90J. 


WJ 


TO 

M.  H.  F. 


IM  80MMEB  SUCH'  BIN  LIEBCIIEN  DIB 

IN  GARTEN  UND  GEFILDl 
DA  BIND  DIE  TAGE  LANG  GENUrt, 

DA  BIND  DIE  NACHTE  MILD. 

IM  WINTER  MUSS  DER  8U*8SE  BUND 
8CHON  FEST  GESCHLO88EN  8EIN, 

SO  DARFST  NICHT  LANGE  STEHN  IM  8CHNEJ 
BEI  KALTEM  MONDENSCHELV. 


NOTE 

In  the  course  of  this  story,  the  author  has  had 
occasion  to  refer  to  Beethoven's  Sonata  Appassionata 
as  containing  a  suggestion  of  the  opening  theme  of  the 
Fifth  Symphony.  He  has  often  seen  this  stated,  and 
believed  that  the  statement  was  generally  accepted  as 
true.  Since  writing,  however,  he  has  heard  the  opin 
ion  expressed,  by  a  musician  who  is  qualified  to  speak 
as  an  authority,  that  the  two  themes  have  nothing  to 
do  with  each  other.  The  author  himself  is  not  com 
petent  to  have  an  opinion  on  the  subject,  but  because 
the  statement  as  first  made  is  closely  bound  up  with 
the  story,  he  has  allowed  it  to  stand  unaltered. 

The  two  extracts  from  MacDowell's  "Woodland 
Sketches,"  on  pages  214  and  291,  are  reprinted  with 
the  kind  permission  of  Professor  MacDowell  and  of 
Arthur  P.  Schmidt,  publisher. 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGB. 

Helen,       •       -•       •       •       •       •       -     Frontispiece. 

"May  I  join  you?"  asked  Mr.  Harrison,  •       •          118 

Helen  found  herself  leaning  forward,    •       •       -       -      198 
She  saw  that  David  was  bending  down,    -  836 


PART  I 


the    mer  -  ry  month   of  May. 


KING     MIDAS 


CHAPTER  I 

"O   Madchen,   Madchen, 
Wie  lieb'  ich  dich!" 

IT  was  that  time  of  year  when  all  the  world  be 
longs  to  poets,  for  their  harvest  of  joy;  when  those 
who  seek  the  country  not  for  beauty,  but  for  cool 
ness,  have  as  yet  thought  nothing  about  it,  and 
when  those  who  dwell  in  it  all  the  time  are  too  busy 
planting  for  another  harvest  to  have  any  thought 
of  poets;  so  that  the  latter,  and  the  few  others  who 
keep  something  in  their  hearts  to  chime  with  the 
great  spring-music,  have  the  woods  and  waters  all 
for  their  own  for  two  joyful  months,  from  the  time 
that  the  first  snowy  bloodroot  has  blossomed,  until 
the  wild  rose  has  faded  and  nature  has  no  more  to 
say.  In  those  two  months  there  are  two  weeks,  the 
ones  that  usher  in  thj  May,  that  bear  the  prize  of 
all  the  year  for  glory;  the  commonest  trees  wear 
green  and  silver  then  that  would  outshine  a  coro 
nation  robe,  and  if  a  man  has  any  of  that  prodigal 
ity  of  spirit  which  makes  imagination,  he  may  hear 
the  song  of  all  the  world. 

It  was  on  such  a  May  morning  in  the  midst  of  a 
ii 


KING  MIDAS 

great  forest  of  pine  trees,  one  of  those  forests  whose 
floors  are  moss-covered  ruins  that  give  to  them  the 
solemnity  of  age  and  demand  humility  from  those 
who  walk  within  their  silences.  There  was  not 
much  there  to  tell  of  the  springtime,  for  the  pines 
are  unsympathetic,  but  it  seemed  as  if  all  the  more 
wealth  had  been  flung  about  on  the  carpeting  be 
neath.  Where  the  moss  was  not  were  flowing  beds 
of  fern,  and  the  ground  was  dotted  with  slender 
harebells  and  the  dusty,  half-blossomed  corydalis, 
while  from  all  the  rocks  the  bright  red  lanterns  of 
the  columbine  were  dangling. 

Of  the  beauty  so  wonderfully  squandered  there 
was  but  one  witness,  a  young  man  who  was  walking 
slowly  along,  stepping  as  it  seemed  where  there 
were  no  flowers;  and  who,  whenever  he  stopped  to 
gaze  at  a  group  of  them,  left  them  unmolested  in 
their  happiness.  He  was  tall  and  slenderly  built, 
with  a  pale  face  shadowed  by  dark  hair;  he  was 
clad  in  black,  and  carried  in  one  hand  a  half -open 
book,  which,  however,  he  seemed  to  have  forgotten. 

A  short  distance  ahead  was  a  path,  scarcely 
marked  except  where  the  half-rotted  trees  were 
trodden  through.  Down  this  the  young  man  turned, 
and  a  while  later,  as  his  ear  was  caught  by  the 
sound  of  falling  water,  he  quickened  his  steps  a 
trifle,  until  he  came  to  a  little  streamlet  which 
flowed  through  the  forest,  taking  for  its  bed  the 
fairest  spot  in  that  wonderland  of  beauty.  It  fled 
from  rock  to  rock  covered  with  the  brightest  of 
bright  green  moss  and  with  tender  fern  that  was 
but  half  uncurled,  and  it  flashed  in  the  sunlit  places 
and  tinkled  from  the  deep  black  shadows,  ever 

12 


KING  MIDAS 

racing  faster  as  if  to  see  what  more  the  forest  had 
to  show.  The  young  man's  look  had  been  anxious 
before,  but  he  brightened  in  spite  of  himself  in  the 
company  of  the  streamlet. 

Not  far  beyond  was  a  place  where  a  tiny  rill 
flowed  down  from  the  high' rocks  above,  and  where 
the  path  broadened  out  considerably.  It  was  a 
darkly  shadowed  spot,  and  the  little  rill  was  gath 
ered  in  a  sunken  barrel,  which  the  genius  of  the 
place  had  made  haste  to  cover  with  the  green  uni 
form  worn  by  all  else  that  was  to  be  seen.  Beside 
the  spring  thus  formed  the  young  man  seated  him 
self,  and  after  glancing  impatiently  at  his  watch, 
turned  his  gaze  upon  the  beauty  that  was  about 
him.  Upon  the  neighboring  rocks  the  columbine 
and  harebell  held  high  revel,  but  he  did  not  notice 
them  so  much  as  a  new  sight  that  flashed  upon  his 
eye;  for  the  pool  where  the  two  streamlets  joined 
was  like  a  nest  which  the  marsh-marigold  had 
taken  for  its  home.  The  water  was  covered  with  its 
bright  green  and  yellow,  and  the  young  man  gazed 
at  the  blossoms  with  eager  delight,  until  finally 
he  knelt  and  plucked  a  few  of  them,  which  he  laid, 
cool  and  gleaming,  upon  the  seat  by  the  spring. 

The  flowers  did  not  hold  his  attention  very  long, 
however;  he  rose  up  and  turned  away  towards 
where,  a  few  steps  beyond,  the  open  country  could 
be  seen  between  the  tree  trunks.  Beyond  the  edge 
of  the  woods  was  a  field,  through  which  the  foot 
path  and  the  streamlet  both  ran,  the  former  to  join 
a  road  leading  to  a  little  town  which  lay  in  the  dis 
tance.  The  landscape  was  beautiful  in  its  morning 
freshness,  but  it  was  not  that  which  the  young  man 

13 


KING  MIDAS 

thought  of;  he  had  given  but  one  glance  before  he 
started  back  with  a  slight  exclamation,  his  face 
turning  paler.  He  stepped  into  the  concealment  of 
the  thick  bushes  at  one  side,  where  he  stood  gazing 
out,  motionless  except  for  a  slight  trembling.  Down 
the  road  he  had  seen  a  white-clad  figure  just  coming 
out  of  the  village;  it  was  too  far  away  to  be  recog 
nized,  but  it  was  a  young  girl,  walking  with  a  quick 
and  springing  step,  and  he  seemed  to  know  who  it 
was. 

She  had  not  gone  very  far  before  she  came  to  a 
thick  hedge  which  lined  the  roadside  and  hid  her 
from  the  other's  view;  he  could  not  see  her  again 
until  she  came  to  the  place  where  the  streamlet  was 
crossed  by  a  bridge,  and  where  the  little  path 
turned  off  towards  the  forest.  In  the  meantime  he 
stood  waiting  anxiously;  for  when  she  reached 
there  he  would  see  her  plainly  for  the  first  time, 
and  also  know  if  she  were  coming  to  the  spring. 
She  must  have  stopped  to  look  at  something,  for  the 
other  had  almost  started  from  his  hiding  place  in 
his  eagerness  when  finally  she  swept  past  the 
bushes.  She  turned  down  the  path  straight  towards 
him,  and  he  clasped  his  hands  together  in  delight 
as  he  gazed  at  her. 

And  truly  she  was  a  very  vision  of  the  spring 
time,  as  she  passed  down  the  meadows  that  were 
gleaming  with  their  first  sprinkling  of  buttercups. 
She  was  clad  in  a  dress  of  snowy  white,  which  the 
wind  swept  before  her  as  she  walked;  and  it  had 
stolen  one  strand  of  her  golden  hair  to  toss  about 
and  play  with.  She  came  with  all  the  eagerness 
and  spring  of  the  brooklet  that  danced  beside  her, 

14 


KING  MIDAS 

her  cheeks  glowing  with  health  and  filled  with  the 
laughter  of  the  morning.  Surely,  of  all  the  flowers 
of  the  May-time  there  is  none  so  fair  as  the  maiden. 
And  the  young  man  thought  as  he  stood  watching 
her  that  in  all  the  world  there  was  no  maiden  so 
fair  as  this. 

She  did  not  see  him,  for  her  eyes  were  lifted  to  a 
little  bobolink  that  had  come  flying  down  the  wind. 
One  does  not  hear  the  bobolink  at  his  best  unless 
one  goes  to  hear  him;  for  sheer  glorified  happiness 
there  is  in  all  our  land  no  bird  like  him  at  the  hour 
of  sunrise,  when  he  is  drunk  with  the  morning 
breeze  and  the  sight  of  the  dew-filled  roses.  At 
present  a  shower  had  just  passed  and  the  bobolink 
may  have  thought  that  another  dawn  had  come; 
or  perhaps  he  saw  the  maiden.  At  any  rate,  he 
perched  himself  upon  the  topmost  leaf  of  the  maple 
tree,  still  half-flying,  as  if  scorning  even  that  much 
support;  and  there  he  sang  his  song.  First  he  gave 
his  long  prelude  that  one  does  not  often  hear — a 
few  notes  a  score  of  times  repeated,  and  growing 
swift  and  loud,  and  more  and  more  strenuous  and 
insistent;  as  sometimes  the  orchestra  builds  up  its 
climax,  so  that  the  listener  holds  his  breath  and 
waits  for  something,  he  knows  not  what.  Then  he 
paused  a  moment  and  turned  his  head  to  see  if  the 
girl  were  watching,  and  filled  his  throat  and  poured 
out  his  wonderful  gushing  music,  with  its  watery 
and  bell-like  tone  that  only  the  streamlet  can  echo, 
from  its  secret  places  underneath  the  banks.  Again 
and  again  he  gave  it  forth,  the  white  patches  on 
his  wings  flashing  in  the  sunlight  and  both  himself 
and  his  song  one  thrill  of  joy. 

15 


KING  MIDAS 

The  girl's  face  was  lit  up  with  delight  as  she 
tripped  down  the  meadow  path.  A  gust  of  wind 
came  up  behind  her,  and  bowed  the  grass  and  the 
flowers  before  her  and  swung  the  bird  upon  the 
tree;  and  so  light  was  the  girl's  step  that  it  seemed 
to  lift  her  and  sweep  her  onward.  As  it  grew 
stronger  she  stretched  out  her  arms  to  it  and  half 
leaned  upon  it  and  flung  her  head  back  for  the  very 
fullness  of  her  happiness.  The  wind  tossed  her 
skirts  about  her,  and  stole  another  tress  of  hair, 
and  swung  the  lily  which  she  had  plucked  and 
which  she  carried  in  her  hand.  It  is  only  when  one 
has  heard  much  music  that  he  understands  the 
morning  wind,  and  knows  that  it  is  a  living  thing 
about  which  he  can  say  such  things  as  that;  one 
needs  only  to  train  his  ear  and  he  can  hear  its  foot 
steps  upon  the  meadows,  and  hear  it  calling  to  him 
from  the  tops  of  the  trees. 

The  girl  was  the  very  spirit  of  the  wind  at  that 
moment,  and  she  seemed  to  feel  that  some  music 
was  needed.  She  glanced  up  again  at  the  bobolink, 
who  had  ceased  his  song;  she  nodded  to  him  once 
as  if  for  a  challenge,  and  then,  still  leaning  back 
upon  the  breeze,  and  keeping  time  with  the  flower 
in  her  hand,  she  broke  out  into  a  happy  song: 

"I  heard  a  streamlet  gushing 
From  out  its  rocky  bed, 
Far    down    the   valley   rushing, 
So  fresh  and  clear  it  sped." 

But  then,  as  if  even  Schubert  were  not  equal  to 
the  fullness  of  her  heart,  or  because  the  language 
of  joy  has  no  words,  she  left  the  song  unfinished 
and  swept  on  in  a  wild  carol  that  rose  and  swelled 

16 


KING  MIDAS 

and  made  the  forest  echo.  The  bobolink  listened 
and  then  flew  on  to  listen  again,  while  still  the  girl 
poured  out  her  breathless  music,  a  mad  volley  of 
soaring  melody;  it  seemed  fairly  to  lift  her  from  her 
feet,  and  she  was  half  dancing  as  she  went.  There 
came  another  gust  of  wind  and  took  her  in  its  arms; 
and  the  streamlet  fled  before  her;  and  thus  the 
three,  in  one  wild  burst  of  happiness,  swept  into  the 
woodland  together. 

There  in  its  shadows  the  girl  stopped  short,  her 
song  cut  in  half  by  the  sight  of  the  old  forest  in 
its  majesty.  One  could  not  have  imagined  a  greater 
contrast  than  the  darkness  and  silence  which  dwelt 
beneath  the  vast  canopy,  and  she  gazed  about  her 
in  rapture,  first  at  the  trees  and  then  at  the  royal 
carpet  of  green,  starred  with  its  fields  of  flowers. 
Her  breast  heaved,  and  she  stretched  out  her  arms 
as  if  she  would  have  clasped  it  all  to  her. 

"Oh,  it  is  so  beautiful!"  she  cried  aloud.  "It  is  so 
beautiful !" 

In  the  meantime  the  young  man,  still  unseen,  had 
been  standing  in  the  shadow  of  the  bushes,  drink 
ing  in  the  sight.  The  landscape  and  the  figure  and 
the  song  had  all  faded  from  his  thoughts,  or  rather 
blended  themselves  as  a  halo  about  one  thing,  the 
face  of  this  girl.  For  it  was  one  of  those  faces  that 
a  man  may  see  once  in  a  lifetime  and  keep  as  a 
haunting  memory  ever  afterwards,  as  a  vision  of  the 
sweetness  and  glory  of  woman;  at  this  moment  it 
was  a  face  transfigured  with  rapture,  and  the  man 
who  was  gazing  upon  it  wras  trembling,  and  scarcely 
aware  of  where  he  was. 

For  fully  a  minute  more  the  £irl  stood  motionless, 

2  17 


KING  MIDAS 

gazing  about  at  the  forest;  then  she  chanced  to  look 
towards  the  spring,  where  she  saw  the  flowers  upon 
the  seat. 

"Why,  someone  has  left  a  nosegay!"  she  ex 
claimed,  as  she  started  forward;  but  that  seemed  to 
suggest  another  thought  to  her,  and  she  looked 
around.  As  she  did  so  she  caught  sight  of  the 
young  man  and  sprang  towards  him.  "Why,  Ar 
thur!  You  here!"  she  cried. 

The  other  started  forward  as  if  he  would  have 
clasped  her  in  his  arms;  but  then  recollecting  him 
self  he  came  forward  very  slowly,  half  lowering  his 
eyes  before  the  girl's  beauty. 

"So  you  recollect  me,  Helen,  do  you?"  he  said,  in 
a  low  voice. 

"Recollect  you?"  was  the  answer.  "Why,  you 
dear,  foolish  boy,  of  course  I  recollect  you.  But 
how  in  the  world  do  you  come  to  be  here?" 

"I  came  here  to  see  you,  Helen." 

"To  see  me?''  exclaimed  she.  "But  pray  how 

"  and  then  she  stopped,  and  a  look  of  delight 

swept  across  her  face.  "You  mean  that  you  knew  I 
would  come  here  the  first  thing?" 

"I  do  indeed." 

"Why,  that  was  beautiful!"  she  exclaimed.  "1 
am  so  glad  I  did  come." 

The  glance  which  she  gave  made  his  heart  leap 
up;  for  a  moment  or  two  they  were  silent,  looking 
at  each  other,  and  then  suddenly  another  thought 
struck  the  girl.  "Arthur,"  she  cried,  "I  forgot!  Do 
you  mean  to  tell  me  that  you  have  come  all  the  way 
from  Hilltown?" 

"Yes,  Helen." 

18 


KING  MIDAS 

"And  just  to  see  me?" 

"Yes,  Helen." 

"And  this  morning?" 

She  received  the  same  answer  again.  "It  is  twelve 
miles,"  she  exclaimed;  "who  ever  heard  of  such  a 
thing?  You  must  be  tired  to  death." 

She  put  out  her  hand,  which  he  took  tremblingly. 

"Let  us  go  sit  down  on  the  bench,"  she  said,  "and 
then  we  can  talk  about  things.  I  am  perfectly  de 
lighted  that  you  came,"  she  added  when  she  had 
seated  herself,  with  the  marigolds  and  the  lily  in 
her  lap.  "It  will  seem  just  like  old  times;  just 
think  how  long  ago  it  was  that  I  saw  you  last, 
Arthur, — three  whole  years!  And  do  you  know, 
as  I  left  the  town  I  thought  of  you,  and  that  I  might 
find  you  here." 

The  young  man's  face  flushed  with  pleasure. 

"But  I'd  forgotten  you  since!"  went  on  the  girl, 
eyeing  him  mischievously;  "for  oh,  I  was  so  happy, 
coming  down  the  old,  old  path,  and  seeing  all  the 
old  sights!  Things  haven't  changed  a  bit,  Arthur; 
the  woods  look  exactly  the  same,  and  the  bridge 
hasn't  altered  a  mite  since  the  days  we  used  to  sit 
on  the  edge  and  let  our  feet  hang  in.  Do  you  re 
member  that,  Arthur?" 

"Perfectly,"  was  the  answer. 

"And  that  was  over  a  dozen  years  ago!  How  old 
are  you  now,  Arthur, — twenty -one — no,  twenty-two; 
and  I  am  just  nineteen.  To-day  is  my  birthday,  you 
know!" 

"I  had  not  forgotten  it,  Helen." 

"You  came  to  welcome  me!  And  so  did  every 
thing  else.  Do  you  know,  I  don't  think  I'd  ever 

19 


KING  MIDAS 

been  so  happy  in  my  life  as  I  was  just  now.  For  I 
thought  the  old  trees  greeted  me,  and  the  bridge, 
and  the  stream!  And  Fm  sure  that  was  the  same 
bobolink!  They  don't  have  any  bobolinks  in  Ger 
many,  and  so  that  one  was  the  first  I  have  heard  in 
three  years.  You  heard  him,  didn't  you,  Arthur?'' 

"I  did— at  first,"  said  Arthur. 

"And  then  you  heard  me,  you  wicked  boy!  You 
heard  me  come  in  here  singing  and  talking  to  my 
self  like  a  mad  creature!  I  don't  think  I  ever  felt 
so  like  singing  before;  they  make  hard  work  out  of 
singing  and  everything  else  in  Germany,  you  know, 
so  I  never  sang  out  of  business  hours;  but  I  be 
lieve  I  could  sing  all  day  now,  because  I'm  so 
happy." 

"Go  on,"  said  the  other,  seriously;  "I  could 
listen." 

"No;  I  want  to  talk  to  you  just  now,"  said  Helen. 
"You  should  have  kept  yourself  hidden  and  then 
you'd  have  heard  all  sorts  of  wonderful  things  that 
you'll  never  have  another  chance  to  hear.  For  I 
was  just  going  to  make  a  speech  to  the  forest,  and 
I  think  I  should  have  kissed  each  one  of  the  flowers. 
You  might  have  put  it  all  into  a  poem^ — for  oh, 
father  tells  me  you're  going  to  be  a  great  poet!'' 

"I'm  going  to  try,"  said  Arthur,  blushing. 

"Just  think  how  romantic  that  would  be!"  the 
girl  laughed;  "and  I  could  write  your  memoir  and 
tell  all  I  knew  about  you.  Tell  me  about  yourself, 
Arthur — J  don't  mean  for  the  memoir,  but  because 
I  want  to  know  the  news." 

"There  isn't  any,  Helen,  except  that  I  finished 


20 


KING  MIDAS 

college  last  spring,  as  I  wrote  yon,  and  I'm  teaching 
school  at  Hilltown." 

"And  you  like  it?" 

"I  hate  it;  but  I  have  to  keep  alive,  to  try  to  be  a 
poet.  And  that  is  the  news  about  myself." 

"Except,"  added  Helen,  "that  you  walked  twelve 
miles  this  glorious  Saturday  morning  to  welcome 
me  home,  which  was  beautiful.  And  of  course 
you'll  stay  over  Sunday,  now  you're  here;  I  can  in- 
vite  you  myself,  you  know,  for  I've  come  home  to 
take  the  reins  of  government.  You  never  saw  such 
a  sight  in  your  life  as  my  poor  father  has  made  of 
our  house;  he's  got  the  parlor  all  full  of  those  hor 
rible  theological  works  of  his,  just  as  if  God  had 
never  made  anything  beautiful!  And  since  I've 
been  away  that  dreadful  Mrs.  Dale  has  gotten  com 
plete  charge  of  the  church,  and  she's  one  of  those 
creatures  that  wouldn't  allow  you  to  burn  a  candle 
in  the  organ  loft;  and  father  never  was  of  any  use 
for  quarreling  about  things."  (Helen's  father,  the 
Reverend  Austin  Davis,  was  the  rector  of  the  little 
Episcopal  church  in  the  town  of  Oakdale  just  across 
the  fields.)  "I  only  arrived  last  night,"  the  girl 
prattled  on,  venting  her  happiness  in  that  way  in 
stead  of  singing;  "but  I  hunted  up  two  tallow 
candles  in  the  attic,  and  you  shall  see  them  in 
church  to-morrow.  If  there's  any  complaint  about 
the  smell,  I'll  tell  Mrs.  Dale  we  ought  to  have  in 
cense,  and  she'll  get  so  excited  about  that  that  I'll 
carry  the  candles  by  default.  I'm  going  to  institute 
other  reforms  also, — I'm  going  to  make  the  choir 
sing  in  tune!" 

"If  you  will  only  sing  as  you  were  singing  just 

21 


KING  MIDAS 

now,  nobody  will  hear  the  rest  of  the  choir,"  vowed 
the  young  man,  who  during  her  remarks  had  never 
taken  his  eyes  off  the  girl's  radiant  face. 

Helen  seemed  not  to  notice  it,  for  she  had  been 
arranging  the  marigolds;  now  she  was  drying  them 
with  her  handkerchief  before  fastening  them  upon 
her  dress. 

"You  ought  to  learn  to  sing  yourself,"  she  said 
while  she  bent  her  head  down  at  that  task.  "Do 
you  care  for  music  any  more  than  you  used  to?" 

"I  think  I  shall  care  for  it  just  as  I  did  then,"  was 
the  answer,  "whenever  you  sing  it." 

"Pooh!''  said  Helen,  looking  up  from  her  mari 
golds;  "the  idea  of  a  dumb  poet  anyway,  a  man  who 
cannot  sing  his  own  songs!  Don't  you  know  that 
if  you  could  sing  and  make  yourself  gloriously 
happy  as  I  was  just  now,  and  as  I  mean  to  be  some 
more,  you  could  write  poetry  whenever  you  wish." 

".I  can  believe  that,"  said  Arthur. 

"Then  why  haven't  you  ever  learned?  Our  Eng 
lish  poets  have  all  been  ridiculous  creatures  about 
music,  any  how;  I  don't  believe  there  was  one  in 
this  century,  except  Browning,  that  really  knew 
anything  about  it,  and  all  their  groaning  and  pining 
for  inspiration  was  nothing  in  the  world  but  a  need 
of  some  music;  I  was  reading  the  Talace  of  Art' 
only  the  other  day,  and  there  was  that  'lordly  pleas 
ure  house'  with  all  its  modern  improvements,  and 
without  a  sound  of  music.  Of  course  the  poor  soul 
had  to  go  back  to  the  suffering  world,  if  it  were  only 
to  hear  a  hand-organ  again." 

"That  is  certainly  a  novel  theory,"  admitted  the 


22 


KING  MTDAS 

young  poet.  "I  shall  conic  io  you  when  I  need 
inspiration." 

"Come  and  bring  ine  your  songs,"  added  the  girl, 
"and  I  will  sing  them  to  you.  You  can  write  me 
a  poem  about  that  brook,  for  one  thing.  I  was 
thinking  just  as  I  came  down  the  road  that  if  I 
were  a  poet  I  should  have  beautiful  things  to  say 
to  that  brook.  Will  you  do  it  for  me?" 

"I  have  already  tried  to  write  one,"  said  the 
young  man,  hesitatingly. 

"A  song?"  asked  Helen. 

"Yes." 

"Oh,  good!  And  I  shall  make  some  music  for  it; 
will  you  tell  it  to  me?" 

"When?" 

"Now,  if  you  can  remember  it,"  said  Helen.  "Can 
you?" 

"If  you  wish  it,"  said  Arthur,  simply;  "I  wrote  it 
two  or  three  months  ago,  when  the  country  was 
different  from  now." 

He  fumbled  in  his  pocket  for  some  papers,  and 
then  in  a  low  tone  he  read  these  words  to  the  girl: 

AT    MIDNIGHT 

The  burden  of  the  winter 

The  year  has  borne  too  long. 
And  oh,  my  heart  is  weary 

For  a  springtime  song! 

The  moonbeams   shrink   unwelcomed 

From   the   frozen   lake ; 
Of  all  the  forest  voices 

There  is  but  one  u\vnk« 

23 


KING  MIDAS 

I  seek  thee,  happy  streamlet 
That  murmurest  on  thy  way, 

As  a  child  in  troubled  slumber 
Still  dreaming  of  its  play; 

I  ask  thee  where  in  thy  journey 
Thou  seeest  so  fair  a  sight, 

That  thou  hast  joy  and  singing 
All    through    the    winter   night. 


Helen  was  silent  for  a  few  moments,  then  she 
said,  "I  think  that  is  beautiful,  Arthur;  but  it  is  not 
what  I  want." 

"Why  not?"  he  asked. 

"I  should  have  liked  it  when  you  wrote  it,  but 
now  the  spring  has  come,  and  we  must  be  happy. 
You  have  heard  the  springtime  song." 

"Yes,"  said  Arthur,  "and  the  streamlet  has  led 
me  to  the  beautiful  sight." 

"It  is  beautiful,"  said  Helen,  gazing  about  her 
with  that  naive  unconsciousness  which  "every  wise 
man's  son  doth  know"  is  one  thing  he  may  never 
trust  in  a  woman.  "It  could  not  be  more  beauti 
ful,''  she  added,  "and  you  must  write  me  something 
about  it,  instead  of  wandering  around  our  pasture- 
pond  on  winter  nights  till  your  imagination  turns 
it  into  a  frozen  lake." 

The  young  poet  put  away  his  papers  rather  sud 
denly  at  that,  and  Helen,  after  gazing  at  him  for 
a  moment,  and  laughing  to  herself,  sprang  up  from 
the  seat. 

"Come!"  she  cried,  "why  are  we  sitting  here,  any 
way,  talking  about  all  sorts  of  things,  and  forget 
ting  the  springtime  altogether?  I  haven't  been 
half  as  happy  yet  as  I  mean  to  be." 

24 


KING  MIDAS 

She  seemed  to  have  forgotten  her  friend's  twelve 
mile  walk;  but  he  had  forgotten  it  too,  just  as  he 
soon  forgot  the  rather  wintry  reception  of  his  little 
song.  It  was  not  possible  for  him  to  remain  dull 
very  long  in  the  presence  of  the  girl's  glowing 
energy;  for  once  upon  her  feet,  Helen's  dancing 
mood  seemed  to  come  back  to  her,  if  indeed  it  had 
ever  more  than  half  left  her.  The  brooklet  struck 
up  the  measure  again,  and  the  wind  shook  the  trees 
far  above  them,  to  tell  that  it  was  still  awake,  and 
the  girl  was  the  very  spirit  of  the  springtime  once 
more. 

"Oh,  Arthur,"  she  said  as  she  led  him  down  the 
path,  "just  think  how  happy  I  ought  to  be,  to  wel 
come  all  the  old  things  after  so  long,  and  to  find 
them  all  so  beautiful;  it  is  just  as  if  the  country 
had  put  on  its  finest  dress  to  give  me  greeting,  and 
I  feel  as  if  I  were  not  half  gay  enough  in  return. 
Just  think  what  this  springtime  is,  how  all  over 
the  country  everything  is  growing  and  rejoicing; 
that  is  what  I  want  you  to  put  into  the  poem  for 
me." 

And  so  she  led  him  on  into  the  forest,  carried  on 
by  joy  herself,  and  taking  all  things  into  her  song. 
She  did  not  notice  that  the  young  man's  forehead 
was  flushed,  or  that  his  hand  was  burning  when  she 
took  it  in  hers  as  they  walked;  if  she  noticed  it,  she 
chose  at  any  rate  to  pretend  not  to.  She  sang  to  him 
about  the  forest  and  the  flowers,  and  some  more  of 
the  merry  song  which  she  had  sung  before;  then  she 
stopped  to  shake  her  head  at  a  saucy  adder's  tongue 
that  thrust  its  yellow  face  up  through  the  dead 
leaves  at  her  feet,  and  to  ask  that  wisest-looking 

25 


KING  MIDAS 

of  all  flowers  what  secrets  it  knew  about  the  spring 
time.  Later  on  they  came  to  a  place  where  the 
brook  fled  faster,  sparkling  brightly  in  the  sunlight 
over  its  shallow  bed  of  pebbles;  it  was  only  her 
runaway  caroling  that  could  keep  pace  with  that, 
and  so  her  glee  mounted  higher,  the  young  man  at 
her  side  half  in  a  trance,  watching  her  laughing 
face  and  drinking  in  the  sound  of  her  voice. 

How  long  that  might  have  lasted  there  is  no  tell 
ing,  had  it  not  been  that  the  woods  came  to  an  end, 
disclosing  more  open  fields  and  a  village  beyond. 
"We'd  better  not  go  any  farther/'  said  Helen,  laugh 
ing;  "if  any  of  the  earth  creatures  should  hear  us 
carrying  on  they  would  not  know  it  was  'Trunken- 
heit  ohne  Wein.' " 

She  stretched  out  her  hand  to  her  companion,  and 
led  him  to  a  seat  upon  a  fallen  log  nearby.  "Poor 
boy,"  she  said,  "I  forgot  that  you  were  supposed  to 
be  tired." 

"It  does  not  make  any  difference,''  was  the  reply; 
"I  hadn't  thought  of  it." 

"There's  no  need  to  walk  farther,"  said  Helen, 
"for  I've  seen  all  that  I  wish  to  see.  How  dear  this 
walk  ought  to  be  to  us,  Arthur!" 

"I  do  not  know  about  you,  Helen,"  said  the  young 
man,  "but  it  has  been  dear  to  me  indeed.  I  could 
not  tell  you  how  many  times  I  have  walked  over  it, 
all  alone,  since  you  left;  and  I  used  to  think  about 
the  many  times  I  had  walked  it  with  you.  You 
haven't  forgotten,  Helen,  have  you?" 

"No,"  said  Helen. 

"Not  one?" 

"Not  one." 

26 


KING  MIDAS 

The  young  man  was  resting  bis  head  upon  his 
hand  and  gazing  steadily  at  the  girl. 

"Do  you  remember,  Helen — ?"  He  stopped;  and 
she  turned  with  her  bright  clear  eyes  and  gazed  into 
his. 

"Remember  what?"  she  asked. 

"Do  you  remember  the  last  time  we  took  it, 
Helen?" 

She  flushed  a  trifle,  and  half  involuntarily  turned 
her  glance  away  again. 

"Do  you  remember?"  he  asked  again,  seeing  that 
she  was  silent. 

"Yes,  I  remember,"  said  the  girl,  her  voice  lower 
— "But  .I'd  rather  you  did  not — ."  She  stopped 
short. 

"You  wish  to  forget  it,  Helen?"  asked  Arthur. 

He  was  trembling  with  anxiety,  and  his  hands, 
which  were  clasped  about  his  knee,  were  twitching. 
"Oh,  Helen,  how  can  you?"  he  went  on,  his  voice 
breaking.  "Do  you  not  remember  the  last  night 
that  we  sat  there  by  the  spring,  and  you  were 
going  away,  no  one  knew  for  how  long — and  how 
you  told  me  that  it  was  more  than  you  could  bear; 
and  the  promise  that  you  made  me?  Oh,  Helen!'' 

The  girl  gazed  at  him  with  a  frightened  look;  he 
had  sunk  down  upon  his  knee  before  her,  and  he 
caught  her  hand  which  lay  upon  the  log  at  her  side. 

"Helen!"  he  cried,  "you  cannot  mean  to  forget 
that?  For  that  promise  has  been  the  one  joy  of  my 
life,  that  for  which  I  have  labored  so  hard!  My 
one  hope,  Helen!  I  came  to-day  to  claim  it,  to  tell 
you— 

And  with  a  wild  glance  about  her,  the  girl  sprang 

27 


KING  MIDAS 

to  her  feet,  snatching  her  hand  away  from  his. 

"Arthur!"  she  cried;  "Arthur,  you  must  not  speak 
to  me  so!" 

"I  must  not,  Helen?" 

"No,  no,"  she  cried,  trembling;  "we  were  only 
children,  and  we  did  not  know  the  meaning  of  the 
words  we  used.  You  must  not  talk  to  me  that  way, 
Arthur." 

"Helen!"  he  protested,  helplessly. 

"No,  no,  I  will  not  allow  it!'7  she  cried  more  ve 
hemently,  stepping  back  as  he  started  towards  her, 
and  holding  close  to  her  the  hand  he  had  held.  "I 
had  no  idea  there  was  such  a  thought  in  your 
mind " 

Helen  stopped,  breathlessly, 

" or  you  would  not  have  been  so  kind  to  me?" 

the  other  added  faintly. 

"I  thought  of  you  as  an  old  friend,"  said  Helen. 
"I  was  but  a  child  when  I  went  away.  I  wish  you 
still  to  be  a  friend,  Arthur;  but  you  must  not  act 
in  that  way." 

The  young  man  glanced  once  at  her,  and  when 
he  saw  the  stern  look  upon  her  face  he  buried  his 
head  in  his  arms  without  a  sound. 

For  fully  a  minute  they  remained  thus,  in  silence; 
then  as  Helen  watched  him,  her  chest  ceased  grad 
ually  to  heave,  and  a  gentler  look  returned  to  her 
face.  She  came  and  sat  down  on  the  log  again. 

"Arthur,"  she  said  after  another  silence,  "can  we 
not  just  be  friends?" 

The  young  man  answered  nothing,  but  he  raised 
his  head  and  gazed  at  her;  and  she  saw  that  there 
were  tears  in  his  eyes,  and  a  look  of  mute  helpless- 

28 


KING  MIDAS 

ness  upon  his  face.  She  trembled  slightly,  and  rose 
to  her  feet  again. 

"Arthur,"  she  said  gravely,  "this  must  not  be; 
we  must  not  sit  here  any  longer.  I  must  go." 

"Helen!''  exclaimed  the  other,  springing  up. 

But  he  saw  her  brow  knit  again,  and  he  stopped 
short.  The  girl  gaz?d  about  her,  and  the  village  in 
the  distance  caught  her  eye. 

"Listen,"  she  said,  with  forced  calmness;  "I  prom 
ised  father  that  I  would  go  and  see  old  Mrs.  Wood 
ward,  who  was  asking  for  me.  You  may  wait  here, 
if  you  like,  and  walk  home  with  me,  for  I  shall  not 
be  gone  very  long.  Will  you  do  it?" 

The  other  gazed  at  her  for  a  moment  or  two;  he 
was  trying  to  read  the  girl's  heart,  but  he  saw  only 
the  quiet  firmness  of  her  features. 

"Will  you  wait,  Arthur?"  she  asked  again. 

And  Arthur's  head  sank  upon  his  breast.  "Yes, 
Helen,"  he  said.  When  he  lifted  it  again,  the  girl 
was  gone;  she  had  disappeared  in  the  thicket,  and 
he  could  hear  her  footsteps  as  she  passed  swiftly 
down  the  hillside. 

He  went  to  the  edge  of  the  woods,  where  he  could 
see  her  a  short  distance  below,  hurrying  down  the 
path  with  a  step  as  light  and  free  as  ever.  The 
wind  had  met  her  at  the  forest's  edge  and  joined 
her  once  more,  playing  about  her  skirts  and  tossing 
the  lily  again.  As  Arthur  watched  her,  the  old 
music  came  back  into  his  heart;  his  eyes  sparkled, 
and  all  his  soul  seemed  to  be  dancing  in  time  with 
her  light  motion.  Thus  it  went  until  she  came  to  a 
place  where  the  path  must  hide  her  from  his  view. 
The  young  man  held  his  breath,  and  when  she 

29 


KING  MIDAS 

turned  a  cry  of  joy  escaped  him;  she  saw  him  and 
waved  her  hand  to  him  gaily  as  she  swept  on  out 
of  his  sight. 

For  a  moment  afterwards  he  stood  rooted  to  the 
spot,  then  whirled  about  and  laughed  aloud.  He 
put  his  hand  to  his  forehead,  which  was  flushed  and 
hot,  and  he  gazed  about  him,  as  if  he  were  not  sure 
where  he  was.  "Oh,  she  is  so  beautiful!"  he  cried, 
his  face  a  picture  of  rapture.  "So  beautiful!" 

And  he  started  through  the  forest  as  wildly  as 
any  madman,  now  muttering  to  himself  and  now 
laughing  aloud  and  making  the  forest  echo  with 
Helen's  name.  When  he  stopped  again  he  was  far 
away  from  the  path,  in  a  desolate  spot,  but  tho 
he  was  staring  around  him,  he  saw  no  more  than 
before.  Trembling  had  seized  his  limbs,  and  he  sank 
down  upon  the  yellow  forest  leaves,  hiding  his  face 
in  his  hands  and  whispering,  "Oh,  if  I  should  lose 
her!  If  I  should  lose  her!"  As  old  Polonius  has  it, 
truly  it  was  "the  very  ecstasy  of  love." 


CHAPTER  II 

"A  dancing  shape,  an  image  gay, 
To  haunt,  to  startle,  and  waylay." 

THE  town  of  Oakdale  is  at  the  present  time  a 
flourishing  place,  inhabited  principally  by  "subur 
banites,"  for  it  lies  not  very  far  from  New  York;  but 
the  Reverend  Austin  Davis,  who  was  the  spiritual 
guardian  of  most  of  them,  had  come  to  Oakdale 
some  twenty  and  more  years  ago,  when  it  was  only 
a  little  village,  with  a  struggling  church  which  it 
was  the  task  of  the  young  clergyman  to  keep  alive. 
Perhaps  the  growth  of  the  town  had  as  much  to 
do  with  his  success  as  his  own  efforts;  but  however 
that  might  have  been  he  had  received  his  temporal 
reward  some  ten  years  later,  in  the  shape  of  a  fine 
stone  church,  with  a  little  parsonage  beside  it.  He 
had  lived  there  ever  since,  alone  with  his  one  child, 
— for  just  after  coming  to  Oakdale  he  had  married  a 
daughter  of  one  of  the  wealthy  families  of  the  neigh 
borhood,  and  been  left  a  widower  a  year  or  two 
later. 

A  more  unromantic  and  thoroughly  busy  man 
than  Mr.  Davis  at  the  age  of  forty-five,  when  this 
story  begins,  it  would  not  have  been  easy  to  find; 
but  nevertheless  people  spoke  of  no  less  than  two 
romances  that  had  been  connected  with  his  life. 
One  of  them  had  been  his  early  marriage,  which  had 


KING  MIDAS 

ereated  a  mild  sensation,  while  the  other  had  come 
into  his  life  even  sooner,  in  fact  on  the  very  first 
day  of  his  arrival  at  Oakdale. 

Mr.  Davis  could  still  bring  back  to  his  mind  with 
perfect  clearness  the  first  night  he  had  spent  in  the 
little  wooden  cottage  which  he  had  hired  for  his 
residence;  how  while  busily  unpacking  his  trunk 
and  trying  to  bring  the  disordered  place  into  shape, 
he  had  opened  the  door  in  answer  to  a  knock  and 
beheld  a  woman  stagger  in  out  of  the  storm.  She 
was  a  young  girl,  surely  not  yet  out  of  her  teens, 
her  pale  and  sunken  face  showing  marks  of  refine 
ment  and  of  former  beauty.  She  carried  in  her 
arms  a  child  of  about  a  year's  age,  and  she  dropped 
it  upon  the  sofa  and  sank  down  beside  it,  half  faint 
ing  from  exhaustion.  The  young  clergyman's  anx 
ious  inquiries  having  succeeded  in  eliciting  but  in 
coherent  replies,  he  had  left  the  room  to  procure 
some  nourishment  for  the  exhausted  woman;  it 
was  upon  his  return  that  the  discovery  of  the  ro 
mance  alluded  to  was  made,  for  the  woman  had 
disappeared  in  the  darkness  and  storm,  and  the 
baby  was  still  lying  upon  the  sofa. 

It  was  not  altogether  a  pleasant  romance,  as  is 
probably  the  case  with  a  good  many  romances  in 
reality.  Mr.  Davis  was  destined  to  retain  for  a  long 
time  a  vivid  recollection  of  the  first  night  which  he 
spent  in  alternately  feeding  that  baby  with  a  spoon, 
and  in  walking  the  floor  with  it;  and  also  to  remem 
ber  the  sly  glances  which  his  parishioners  only  half 
hid  from  him  when  his  unpleasant  plight  was  made 
known. 

It  happened  that  the  poorhouse  at  Hilltown  near 

32 


KING  MIDAS 

by,  to  which  the  infant  would  have  gone  if  he  had 
left  it  to  the  care  of  the  county,  was  at  that  time 
being  ''investigated,"  with  all  that  the  name  implies 
when  referring  to  public  matters;  the  clergy  of  the 
neighborhood  being  active  in  pushing  the  charges, 
Mr.  Davis  felt  that  at  present  it  would  look  best  for 
him  to  provide  for  the  child  himself.  As  the  investi 
gation  came  to  nothing,  the  inducement  was  made 
a  permanent  one;  perhaps  also  the  memory  of  the 
mother's  wan  face  had  something  to  do  with  the 
matter.  At  any  rate  the  young  clergyman,  tho 
but  scantily  provided  for  himself,  managed  to  spare 
enough  to  engage  a  woman  in  the  town  to  take  care 
of  the  young  charge.  Subsequently  when  Mr.  Davis' 
wife  died  the  woman  became  Helen's  nurse,  and  so 
it  was  that  Arthur,  as  the  baby  boy  had  been  christ 
ened,  became  permanently  adopted  into  the  clergy 
man's  little  family. 

.It  had  not  been  possible  to  keep  from  Arthur  the 
secret  of  his  parentage,  and  the  fact  that  it  was 
known  to  all  served  to  keep  him  aloof  from  the 
other  children  of  the  town,  and  to  drive  him  still 
more  to  the  confidence  of  Helen.  One  of  the  phrases 
which  Mr.  Davis  had  caught  from  the  mother's  lips 
had  been  that  the  boy  was  a  "gentleman's  son;" 
and  Helen  was  wont  to  solace  him  by  that  reminder. 
Perhaps  the  phrase,  constantly  repeated,  had  much 
to  do  with  the  proud  sensitiveness  and  the  resolute 
independence  which  soon  manifested  itself  in  the 
lad's  character.  He  had  scarcely  passed  the  age 
of  twelve  before,  tho  treated  by  Mr.  Davis  with 
the  love  and  kindness  of  a  father,  he  astonished  the 
good  man  by  declaring  that  he  was  old  enough  to 

3  33 


KING  MIDAS 

take  care  of  himself;  and  tho  Mr.  Davis  was 
better  situated  financially  by  that  time,  nothing 
that  he  could  say  could  alter  the  boy's  quiet  deter 
mination  to  leave  school  and  be  independent,  a  reso 
lution  in  which  he  was  seconded  by  Helen,  a  little 
miss  of  some  nine  years.  The  two  children  had 
talked  it  over  for  months,  as  it  appeared,  and  con 
cluded  that  it  was  best  to  sacrifice  in  the  cause  of 
honor  the  privilege  of  going  to  school  together,  and 
of  spending  the  long  holidays  roaming  about  the 
country. 

So  the  lad  had  served  with  childish  dignity,  first 
as  an  errand  boy,  and  then  as  a  store  clerk,  always 
contributing  his  mite  of  "board"  to  Mr.  Davis' 
household  expenses;  meanwhile,  possibly  because 
he  was  really  "a  gentleman's  son,"  and  had  in 
herited  a  taste  for  study,  he  had  made  by  himself 
about  as  much  progress  as  if  he  had  been  at  school. 
Some  years  later,  to  the  delight  of  Helen  and  Mr. 
Davis,  he  had  carried  off  a  prize  scholarship  above 
the  heads  of  the  graduates  of  the  Hilltown  High 
School,  and  still  refusing  all  help,  had  gone  away 
to  college,  to  support  himself  there  while  studying 
by  such  work  as  he  could  find,  knowing  well  that  a 
true  gentleman's  son  is  ashamed  of  nothing  honest. 

He  spent  his  vacations  at  home,  where  he  and 
Helen  studied  together, — or  such  rather  had  been 
his  hope;  it  was  realized  only  for  the  first  year. 

Helen  had  an  aunt  upon  her  mother's  side,  a 
woman  of  wealth  and  social  position,  who  owned  a 
large  country  home  near  Oakdale,  and  who  was  by 
no  means  inclined  to  view  with  the  complacency 
of  Mr.  Davis  the  idyllic  friendship  of  the  two  young 

34 


KING  MIDAS 

people.  Mrs.  l\oberls,  or  "Aunt  Polly"  as  she  was 
known  to  the  family,  had  plans  of  her  own  concern 
ing  the  future  of  the  beauty  which  she  saw  unfold 
ing  itself  at  the  Oakdale  parsonage.  She  said  noth 
ing  to  Mr.  Davis,  for  he,  being  busy  with  theological 
works  and  charitable  organizations,  was  not  con 
sidered  a  man  from  whom  one  might  hope  for 
proper  ideas  about  life.  But  with  her  own  more 
practical  husband  she  had  frequently  discussed  the 
danger,  and  the  possible  methods  of  warding  it  off. 

To  send  Helen  to  a  boarding  school  would  have 
been  of  no  use,  for  the  vacations  were  the  times  of 
danger;  so  it  was  that  the  trip  abroad  was  finally 
decided  upon.  Aunt  Polly,  having  traveled  herself, 
had  a  wholesome  regard  for  German  culture,  believ 
ing  that  music  and  things  of  that  sort  were  paying 
investments.  It  chanced,  also,  that  her  own  eldest 
daughter,  who  was  a  year  older  than  Helen,  was 
about  through  with  all  that  American  teachers  had 
to  impart;  and  so  after  much  argument  with  Mr. 
Davis,  it  was  finally  arranged  that  she  and  Helen 
should  study  in  Germany  together.  Just  when 
poor  Arthur  was  returning  home  with  the  sublime 
title  of  junior,  his  dream  of  all  things  divine  was 
carried  off  by  Aunt  Polly,  and  after  a  summer  spent 
in  "doing"  Europe,  was  installed  in  a  girl's  school 
in  Leipzig. 

And  now,  three  years  having  passed,  Helen  has 
left  her  cousin  for  another  year  of  travel,  and  re 
turned  home  in  all  the  glory  of  her  own  springtime 
and  of  Nature's;  which  brings  us  to  where  we  left 
her,  hurrying  away  to  pay  a  duty  call  in  the  little 
settlement  on  the  hillside. 

35 


KING  MIDAS 

The  visit  had  not  been  entirely  a  subterfuge,  'for 
Helen's  father  had  mentioned  to  her  that  the  elderlj 
person  whom  she  had  named  to  Arthur  was  expect 
ing  to  see  her  when  she  returned,  and  Helen  had 
been  troubled  by  the  thought  that  she  would  never 
have  any  peace  until  she  had  paid  that  visit.  It 
was  by  no  means  an  agreeable  one,  for  old  Mrs. 
Woodward  was  exceedingly  dull,  and  Helen  felt 
that  she  was  called  upon  to  make  war  upon  dull 
ness.  However,  it  had  occurred  to  her  to  get  her 
task  out  of  the  way  at  once,  while  she  felt  that  she 
ought  to  leave  Arthur. 

The  visit  proved  to  be  quite  as  depressing  as  she 
had  expected,  for  it  is  sad  to  have  to  record  that 
Helen,  however  sensitive  to  the  streamlet  and  the 
flowers,  had  not  the  least  sympathy  in  the  world 
for  an  old  woman  who  had  a  very  sharp  chin,  who 
stared  at  one  through  two  pairs  of  spectacles,  and 
whose  conversation  was  about  her  own  health  and 
the  dampness  of  the  springtime,  besides  the  drear 
iest  gossip  about  Oakdale's  least  interesting  people. 
Perhaps  it  might  have  occurred  to  the  girl  that  it 
is  very  forlorn  to  have  nothing  else  to  talk  about, 
and  that  even  old  Mrs.  Woodward  might  have  liked 
to  hear  about  some  of  the  things  in  the  forest,  or  to 
have  been  offered  the  lily  and  the  marigold.  Un 
fortunately,  however,  Helen  did  not  think  about 
any  of  that,  but  only  moved  restlessly  about  in  her 
chair  and  gazed  around  the  ugly  room.  Finally 
when  she  could  stand  it  no  more,  she  sprang  up  be 
tween  two  of  Mrs.  Woodward's  longest  sentences 
and  remarked  that  it  was  very  late  and  a  long  way 
home,  and  that  she  would  come  again  some  time. 

36 


KING  MIDAS 

Then  at  last  when  she  was  out  in  the  open  air, 
she  drew  a  deep  breath  and  fled  away  to  the  woods, 
wondering  what  could  be  God's  reason  for  such 
things.  It  was  not  until  she  was  half  way  up  the 
hillside  that  she  could  feel  that  the  wind,  which 
blew  now  upon  her  forehead,  had  quite  swept  away 
the  depression  which  had  settled  upon  her.  She 
drank  in  the  odors  which  blew  from  the  woods,  and 
began  singing  to  herself  again,  and  looking  out  for 
Arthur. 

She  was  rather  surprised  not  to  see  him  at  once, 
and  still  more  surprised  when  she  came  nearer  and 
raised  her  voice  to  call  him;  for  she  reached  the 
forest  and  came  to  the  place  where  she  had  left  him 
without  a  reply  having  come.  She  shouted  his 
name  again  and  again,  until  at  last,  not  without 
a  half  secret  chagrin  to  have  been  so  quickly  for 
gotten,  she  was  obliged  to  set  out  for  home  alone. 

"Perhaps  he's  gone  on  ahead,"  she  thought,  quick 
ening  her  pace. 

For  a  time  she  watched  anxiously,  expecting  to 
see  his  darkly  clad  figure;  but  she  soon  wearied  of 
continued  failure,  and  because  it  was  her  birthday, 
and  because  the  brook  was  still  at  her  side  and  the 
beautiful  forest  still  about  her,  she  took  to  singing 
again,  and  was  quickly  as  happy  and  glorious  as  be 
fore,  ceasing  her  caroling  and  moderating  her  wood 
land  pace  only  when  she  neared  the  town.  She 
passed  down  the  main  street  of  Oakdale,  not  quite 
without  an  exulting  consciousness  that  her  walk 
had  crowned  her  beauty  and  that  no  one  whom  she 
saw  was  thinking  about  anything  else;  and  so  she 


37 


KING  MIDAS 

came  to  her  home,  to  the  dear  old  parsonage,  with 
its  spreading  ivy  vines,  and  its  two  great  elms. 

When  she  had  hurried  up  the  steps  and  shut  the 
door  behind  her,  Helen  felt  privileged  again  to  be 
just  as  merry  as  she  chose,  for  she  was  even  more 
at  home  here  than  in  the  woods;  it  seemed  as  if 
everything  were  stretching  out  its  arms  to  her  to 
welcome  her,  and  to  invite  her  to  carry  out  her  de 
clared  purpose  of  taking  the  reins  of  government  in 
her  own  hands. 

Upon  one  side  of  the  hallway  was  a  parlor,  and  on 
the  other  side  two  rooms,  which  Mr.  Davis  had  used 
as  a  reception  room  and  a  study.  The  parlor  had 
never  been  opened,  and  Helen  promised  herself  a 
jolly  time  superintending  the  fixing  up  of  that;  on 
the  other  side  she  had  already  taken  possession  of 
the  front  room,  symbolically  at  any  rate,  by  having 
her  piano  moved  in  and  her  music  unpacked,  and  a 
case  emptied  for  the  books  she  had  brought  from 
Germany.  To  be  sure,  on  the  other  side  was  still 
a  dreary  wall  of  theological  treatises  in  funereal 
black,  but  Helen  was  not  without  hopes  that  con 
tinued  doses  of  cheerfulness  might  cure  her  father 
of  such  incomprehensible  habits,  and  obtain  for  her 
the  permission  to  move  the  books  to  the  attic. 

To  start  things  in  that  direction  the  girl  now 
danced  gaily  into  the  study  where  her  father  was 
in  the  act  of  writing  "thirdly,  brethren,"  for  his 
next  day's  sermon;  and  crying  out  merrily, 

"Up,  up  my  friend,  and  quit  your  books, 
Or  surely  you'll  grow  double!" 

she  saluted  her  reverend  father  with  the  sweetest  of 
38 


KING  MIDAS 

kisses,  and  then  seated  herself  on  the  arm  of  his 
chair  and  gravely  took  his  pen  out  of  his  hand,  and 
closed  his  inkstand.  She  turned  over  the  "thirdly, 
brethren,"  without  blotting  it,  and  recited  solemnly: 

"One  impulse  from  a  vernal  wood 
May  teach  you  more  of  man, 

Of  moral   evil   and  of  good, 
Than  all  the  sages  can!" 

And  then  she  laughed  the  merriest  of  merry 
laughs  and  added,  "Daddy,  dear,  I  am  an  impulse! 
And  I  want  you  to  spare  some  time  for  me." 

"Yes,  my  love,"  said  Mr.  Davis,  smiling  upon  her, 
though  groaning  inwardly  for  his  lost  ideas.  "You 
are  beautiful  this  morning,  Helen.  What  have  you 
been  doing?" 

"I've  had  a  glorious  walk,"  replied  the  girl,  "and 
all  kinds  of  wonderful  adventures;  I've  had  a  dance 
with  the  morning  wind,  and  a  race  of  a  mile  or  two 
with  a  brook,  and  I've  sung  duets  with  all  the 
flowers, — and  here  you  are  writing  uninteresting 
things!" 

"It's  my  sermon,  Helen,"  said  Mr.  Davis. 

"I  know  it,"  said  Helen,  gravely. 

"But  it  must  be  done  for  to-morrow,"  protested 
the  other. 

"Half  your  congregation  is  going  to  be  so  excited 
about  two  tallow  candles  that  it  won't  know  what 
you  preach  about,"  answered  the  girl,  swinging  her 
self  on  the  arm  of  the  chair;  "and  I'm  going  to  sing 
for  the  other  half,  and  so  they  won't  care  either. 
And  besides,  Daddy,  I've  got  news  to  tell  you; 
you've  no  idea  what  a  good  girl  I've  been." 

"How,  my  love?" 

39 


KING  MIDAS 

"I  went  to  see  Mrs.  Woodward." 

"You  didn't!" 

"Yes;  and  it  was  just  to  show  you  how  dutiful 
I'm  going  to  be.  Daddy,  I  felt  so  sorry  for  the  poor 
old  lady;  it  is  so  beautiful  to  know  that  one  is  doing 
good  and  bringing  happiness  into  other  people's 
lives!  I  think  I'll  go  and  see  her  often,  and  carry 
her  something  nice  if  you'll  let  me." 

Helen  said  all  that  as  gravely  as  a  judge;  but  Mr. 
Davis  was  agreeing  so  delightedly  that  she  feared 
she  was  carrying  the  joke  too  far.  She  changed 
the  subject  quickly. 

"Oh,  Daddy!"  she  cried,  ".I  forgot  to  tell  you — I 
met  a  genius  to-day!" 

"A  genius?''  inquired  the  other. 

"Yes,"  said  Helen,  "and  I've  been  walking  around 
with  him  all  morning  out  in  the  woods!  Did  you 
never  hear  that  every  place  like  that  has  a  genius?" 

"Yes,"  assented  Mr.  Davis,  "but  I  don't  under 
stand  your  joke." 

"This  was  the  genius  of  Hilltown  High  School," 
laughed  Helen. 

"Oh,  Arthur!" 

"Yes;  will  you  believe  it,  the  dear  boy  had  walked 
all  the  way  from  there  to  see  me;  and  he  waited 
out  by  the  old  seat  at  the  spring!" 

"But  where  is  he  now?" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Helen.  "It's  very  queer;  1 
left  him  to  go  see  Mrs.  Woodward.  He  didn't  go 
with  me,"  she  added,  "I  don't  believe  he  felt  in 
clined  to  charity." 

"That  is  not  like  Arthur,"  said  the  other. 

"I'm  going  to  take  him  in  hand,  as  becomes  a 

40 


KING  MIDAS 

clergyman's  daughter,"  said  Helen  demurely;  "I'm 
going  to  be  a  model  daughter,  Daddy — just  you 
wait  and  see!  I'll  visit  all  your  parishioners'  lawn- 
parties  and  five  o'clock  teas  for  you,  and  I'll  play 
Handel's  Largo  and  Siegfried's  Funeral  March 
whenever  you  want  to  write  sermons.  Won't  you 
like  that?" 

"Perhaps,"  said  Mr.  Davis,  dubiously. 

"Only  I  know  you'll  make  blots  when  I  come  to 
the  cymbals,''  said  Helen;  and  she  doubled  up  her 
fists  and  hummed  the  passage,  and  gave  so  realistic 
an  imitation  of  the  cymbal-clashes  in  the  great 
dirge  that  it  almost  upset  the  chair.  Afterwards 
she  laughed  one  of  her  merriest  laughs  and  kissed 
her  father  on  the  forehead. 

"I  heard  it  at  Baireuth,"  she  said,  "and  it  was  just 
fine!  It  made  your  flesh  creep  all  over  you.  And 
oh,  Daddy,  I  brought  home  a  souvenir  of  Wagner's 
grave!" 

"Did  you?"  asked  Mr.  Davis,  who  knew  very  little 
about  Wagner. 

"Yes,"  said  Helen,  "just  a  pebble  I  picked  up  near 
it;  and  you  ought  to  have  seen  the  custom-house 
officer  at  the  dock  yesterday  when  he  was  going 
through  my  trunks.  'What's  this,  Miss?'  he  asked; 
I  guess  he  thought  it  was  a  diamond  in  the  rough. 
'Oh,  that's  from  Wagner's  grave,'  I  said.  And 
what  do  you  think  the  wretch  did?" 

"I'm  sure  I  don't  know,  my  love." 

"He  threw  it  back,  saying  it  wasn't  worth  any 
thing;  I  think  he  must  have  been  a  Brahmsite." 

"It  took  the  longest  time  going  through  all  my 
treasures,"  Helen  prattled  on,  after  laughing  at  her 

41 


KING  MIDAS 

own  joke;  "you  know  Aunt  Polly  let  us  have  every 
thing  we  wanted,  bless  her  heart!" 

"I'm  afraid  Aunt  Polly  must  have  spoiled  you," 
said  the  other. 

"She  has,"  laughed  Helen;  "I  really  think  she 
must  mean  to  make  me  marry  a  rich  husband,  or 
else  she'd  never  have  left  me  at  that  great  rich 
school;  Lucy  and  I  were  the  'star-boarders'  you 
know,  and  we  just  had  everybody  to  spoil  us.  How 
in  the  world  could  you  ever  manage  to  spare  so 
much  money,  Daddy?" 

"Oh,  it  was  not  so  much,''  said  Mr.  Davis;  "things 
are  cheaper  abroad."  (As  a  matter  of  fact,  the 
grimly  resolute  Aunt  Polly  had  paid  two-thirds  of 
her  niece's  expenses  secretly,  besides  distributing 
pocket  money  with  lavish  generosity.) 

"And  you  should  see  the  wonderful  dresses  I've 
brought  from  Paris,"  Helen  went  on.  "Oh,  Daddy, 
I  tell  you  I  shall  be  glorious!  Aunt  Polly's  going 
to  invite  a  lot  of  people  at  her  house  next  week  to 
meet  me,  and  I'm  going  to  wear  the  reddest  of  red, 
red  dresses,  and  just  shine  like  a  lighthouse!" 

"I'm  afraid,"  said  the  clergyman,  surveying  her 
with  more  pride  than  was  perhaps  orthodox,  "I'm 
afraid  you'll  find  it  hard  to  be  satisfied  in  this  poor 
little  home  of  ours.'' 

"Oh,  that's  all  right,"  said  Helen;  "I'll  soon  get 
used  to  it;  and  besides,  I've  got  plenty  of  things 
to  fix  it  up  with — if  you'll  only  get  those  dreadful 
theological  works  out  of  the  front  room!  Daddy 
dear,  you  can't  imagine  how  hard  it  is  to  bring 
the  Valkyries  and  Niebelungs  into  a  theological 
library." 

42 


KING  MIDAS 

"I'll  see  what  I  can  do,  my  love,"  said  Mr.  Davis. 

He  was  silent  for  a  few  moments,  perhaps  won 
dering  vaguely  whether  it  was  well  that  this  com 
manding  young  lady  should  have  everything  in  the 
world  she  desired;  Helen,  who  had  her  share  of 
penetration,  probably  divined  the  thought,  for  she 
made  haste  to  change  the  subject. 

"By  the  way,"  she  laughed,  "we  got  so  interested 
in  our  chattering  that  we  forgot  all  about  Arthur." 

"Sure  enough,"  exclaimed  the  other.  "Pray 
where  can  he  have  gone?" 

"I  don't  know,"  Helen  said;  "it's  strange.  But 
poets  are  such  queer  creatures!" 

"Arthur  is  a  very  splendid  creature,"  said  Mr. 
Davis.  "You  have  no  idea,  Helen,  how  hard  he  has 
labored  since  you  have  been  away.  He  carried  off 
all  the  honors  at  college,  and  they  say  he  has  writ 
ten  some  good  poetry.  I  don't  know  much  about 
that,  but  the  people  who  know  tell  me  so." 

"It  would  be  gloriously  romantic  to  know  a  great 
poet,"  said  Helen,  "and  perhaps  have  him  write 
poetry  about  you,— 'Helen,  thy  beauty  is  to  me/ 
and  'Sweet  Helen,  make  me  immortal  with  a  kiss,' 
and  all  sorts  of  things  like  that!  He's  coming  to 
live  with  us  this  summer  as  usual,  isn't  he,  Daddy?" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  the  other;  "I  presume  he 
will.  But  where  can  he  have  gone  to-day?" 

"He  acted  very  queerly,"  said  the  girl;  and  then 
suddenly  a  delighted  smile  lit  up  her  face.  "Oh, 
Daddy,"  she  added,  "do  you  know,  I  think  Arthur 
is  in  love!" 

"In  love!"  gasped  Mr.  Davis. 
"Yes,  in  love!" 


43 


KING  MIDAS 

"Pray,  with  whom?" 

"I'm  sure  I  can't  imagine,"  said  Helen  gravely; 
"but  he  seemed  so  abstracted,  and  he  seemed  to 
have  something  to  tell  me.  And  then  he  ran 
away !" 

"That  is  very  strange  indeed,"  remarked  the 
other.  "I  shall  have  to  speak  to  him  about  it." 

"If  he  doesn't  come  back  soon,  I'll  go  to  look  for 
him,"  said  the  girl;  "I'm  not  going  to  let  the  water 
nixies  run  off  with  my  Arthur;  there  are  such 
things  in  that  stream,  because  the  song  I  was  sing 
ing  about  it  says  so."  And  then  she  chanted  as 
merrily  as  ever: 

"Why  speak   I   of  a  murmur? 

No  murmur   can   it  be; 
The  Nixies  they  are  singing 
'Neath  the  wave  their  melody!" 

"I  will  tell  you  what,"  said  Mr.  Davis,  rising  from 
his  chair  as  he  realized  that  the  sermon  had  entirely 
vanished  for  the  present.  "You  may  go  part  of  the 
way  with  me,  and  we'll  stop  in  to  see  the  Vails." 

"The  Vails!"  gasped  Helen.  (Mr.  Vail  was  the 
village  dairyman,  whose  farm  lay  on  the  outskirts 
of  the  town;  the  village  dairyman's  family  was  not 
one  that  Helen  cared  to  visit.) 

"My  love,"  said  Mr.  Davis,  "poor  Mrs.  Vail  has 
been  very  ill,  and  she  has  three  little  children,  you 
know.  You  told  me  that  you  liked  to  bring  joy 
wherever  you  could." 

"Yes,  but,  Daddy,"  protested  Helen,  "those  chil 
dren  are  dirty!  Ugh!  I  saw  them  as  I  came  by." 

"My  love,"  answered  the  other,  "they  are  God's 

44 


KING  MIDAS 

children  none  the  less;  and  we  cannot  always  help 
such  things." 

"But  we  can,  Daddy;  there  is  plenty  of  water  in 
the  world." 

"Yes,  of  course;  but  when  the  mother  is  ill,  and 
the  father  in  trouble!  For  poor  Mr.  Vail  has  had 
no  end  of  misfortune;  he  has  no  resource  but  the 
little  dairy,  and  three  of  his  cows  have  been  ill  this 
spring." 

And  Helen's  incorrigible  mirth  lighted  up  her 
face  again.  "Oh!"  she  cried.  "Is  Mo*  it!  I  saw  him 
struggling  away  at  the  pump  as  I  came  by;  but  I 
had  no  idea  it  was  anything  so  serious!" 

Mr.  Davis  looked  grieved;  Helen,  when  her  first 
burst  of  glee  had  passed,  noticed  it  and  changed  her 
mood.  She  put  her  arms  around  her  father's  neck 
and  pressed  her  cheek  against  his. 

"Daddy,  dear,"  she  said  coaxingly,  "haven't  I 
done  charity  enough  for  one  day?  You  will  surfeit 
me  at  the  start,  and  then  I'll  be  just  as  little  fond 
of  it  as  I  was  before.  When  I  must  let  dirty  chil 
dren  climb  all  over  me,  I  can  dress  for  the  occasion." 

"My  dear,"  pleaded  Mr.  Davis,  "Godliness  is 
placed  before  Cleanliness." 

"Yes,"  admitted  Helen,  "and  of  course  it  is  right 
for  you  to  inculcate  the  greater  virtue;  but  I'm  only 
a  girl,  and  you  mustn't  expect  sublimity  from  me. 
You  don't  want  to  turn  me  into  a  president  of  sew 
ing  societies,  like  that  dreadful  Mrs.  Dale!" 

"Helen,"  protested  the  other,  helplessly,  "I  wish 
you  would  not  always  refer  to  Mrs.  Dale  with  that 
adjective;  she  is  the  best  helper  I  have." 

"Yes,  Daddy,"  said  Helen,  with  the  utmost  sol- 


KING  MIDAS 

emnity;  "when  I  have  a  dreadful  eagle  nose  like 
hers,  perhaps  I  can  preside  over  meetings  too.  But 
I  can't  now." 

"I  do  not  want  you  to,  my  love;  but " 

"And  if  I  have  to  cling  by  the  weaker  virtue  of 
cleanliness  just  for  a  little  while,  Daddy,  you  must 
not  mind.  I'll  visit  all  your  clean  parishioners  for 
you, — parishioners  like  Aunt  Polly!" 

And  before  Mr.  Davis  could  make  another  remark, 
the  girl  had  skipped  into  the  other  room  to  the 
piano;  as  her  father  went  slowly  out  the  door,  the 
echoes  of  the  old  house  were  laughing  with  the 
happy  melody  of  Purcell's 


m 


Nymphs  and  shepherds,  come  a  -  way,      come    a  -  way, 


m 


'Nymphs  and  shepherds,  come  a  -  way,    come     a  -  way,  Come, 


come,  come,  come  a  -  way  ! 


CHAPTER  III 

"For  you  alone  I  strive  to  sing, 
Oh,  tell  me  how  to  woo!" 

t 

WHEN  Helen  was  left  alone,  she  seated  herself 
before  her  old  music  stand  which  had  been  brought 
down  to  welcome  her,  and  proceeded  to  glance  over 
and  arrange  the  pieces  she  had  learned  and  loved  in 
her  young  girlhood.  Most  of  them  made  her  smile, 
and  when  she  reflected  upon  how  difficult  she  used 
to  think  them,  she  realized  that  now  that  it  was 
over  she  was  glad  for  the  German  regime.  Helen 
had  accounted  herself  an  accomplished  pianist 
when  she  went  away,  but  she  had  met  with  new 
standards  and  learned  to  think  humbly  of  herself 
in  the  great  home  of  music.  She  possessed  a  genuine 
fondness  for  the  art,  however,  and  had  devoted 
most  of  her  three  years  to  it,  so  that  she  came  home 
rejoicing  in  the  possession  of  a  technic  that  was 
quite  a  mastership  compared  with  any  that  she  was 
likely  to  meet. 

Helen's  thoughts  did  not  dwell  upon  that  very 
long  at  present,  however;  she  found  herself  think 
ing  again  about  Arthur,  and  the  unexpected  ending 
of  her  walk  with  him. 

"I  had  no  idea  he  felt  that  way  toward  me," 
she  mused,  resting  her  chin  in  her  hand;  "what  in 
the  world  am  I  going  to  do?  Men  are  certainly 


KING  MIDAS 

most  inconvenient  creatures;  I  thought  I  was  doing 
everything  in  the  world  to  make  him  happy!" 

Helen  turned  to  the  music  once  more,  but  the 
memory  of  the  figure  she  had  left  sunken  helplessly 
upon  the  forest  seat  stayed  in  her  mind.  "I  do 
wonder  if  that  can  be  why  he  did  not  wait  for  me," 
she  thought,  shuddering, — "if  he  was  too  wretched 
to  see  me  again;  what  can  I  do?"  She  got  up  and 
began  walking  restlessly  up  and  down  the  room  for 
a  few  minutes. 

"Perhaps  I  ought  to  go  and  look  for  him,"  she 
mused;  "it  was  an  hour  or  two  ago  that  I  left  him 
there;"  and  Helen,  after  thinking  the  matter  over, 
had  half  turned  to  leave,  when  she  heard  a  step 
outside  and  saw  the  door  open  quickly.  Even  be 
fore  she  saw  him  she  knew  who  it  was,  for  only 
Arthur  would  have  entered  without  ringing  the 
bell.  After  having  pictured  him  overcome  by  de 
spair,  it  was  rather  a  blow  to  her  pride  to  see  him, 
for  he  entered  flushed,  and  seemingly  elated. 

"Well,  sir,  you've  treated  me  nicely!"  she  ex 
claimed,  showing  her  vexation  in  spite  of  herself. 

"You  will  forgive  me,"  said  Arthur,  smiling. 

"Don't  be  too  sure  of  it,"  Helen  said;  "I  looked 
for  you  everywhere,  and  I  am  quite  angry." 

"I  was  obeying  your  high  command,"  the  other 
replied,  still  smiling. 

"My  command?    I  told  you  to  wait  for  me.'' 

"You  told  me  something  else,"  laughed  Arthur. 
"You  spent  all  the  morning  instructing  me  for  it, 
you  know." 

"Oh!"  said  Helen.  It  was  a  broad  and  very  much 
prolonged  "Oh,"  for  a  sudden  light  was  dawning 

48 


KING  MIDAS 

upon  the  girl;  as  it  canie  her  frown  gave  place  to  a 
look  of  delight. 

"You  have  been  writing  ine  a  poem!"  she  cried, 
eagerly. 

"Yes,"  said  Arthur. 

"Oh,  you  dear  boy!"  Helen  laughed.  "Then  I  do 
forgive  you;  but  you  ought  to  have  told  me,  for  I 
had  to  walk  home  all  alone,  and  I've  been  worrying 
about  you.  I  never  once  thought  of  the  poem." 

"The  muses  call  without  warning,"  laughed  Ar 
thur,  "and  one  has  to  obey  them,  you  know." 

"Oh,  oh!"  exclaimed  the  other.  "And  so  you've 
been  wandering  around  the  woods  all  this  time, 
making  verses!  And  you've  been  waving  your  arms 
and  talking  to  yourself,  and  doing  all  sorts  of  crazy 
things,  I  know!"  Then  as  she  saw  Arthur  flush,  she 
went  on:  "I  was  sure  of  it!  And  you  ran  away  so 
that  I  wouldn't  see  you!  Oh,  I  wish  I'd  known; 
I'd  have  hunted  you  up  and  never  come  home  until 
I'd  found  you." 

As  was  usual  with  Helen,  her  momentary  vex 
ation  had  gone  like  April  rain,  and  all  her  serious 
ness  had  vanished  with  it.  She  forgot  all  about  the 
last  scene  in  the  woods,  and  Arthur  was  once  more 
the  friend  of  her  girlhood,  whom  she  might  take 
by  the  hand  when  she  chose,  and  with  whom  she 
might  be  as  free  and  happy  as  when  she  was  alone 
with  the  flowers  and  the  wind.  It  seemed  as  if 
Arthur  too  had  vented  all  his  pent  up  emotion,  and 
returned  to  his  natural  cheerful  self. 

"Tell  me,"  she  cried,  "did  you  put  in  all  the  things 
I  told  vou  about?" 


49 


KING  MIDAS 

"I  put  all  I  could,"  said  Arthur.  "That  is  a  great 
deal  to  ask." 

"I  only  want  it  to  be  full  of  life,"  laughed  Helen. 
"That's  all  I  care  about;  the  man  who  wants  to 
write  springtime  poetry  for  me  must  be  wide 
awake!" 

"Shall  I  read  it  to  you?"  asked  Arthur,  hesitat 
ingly. 

"Yes,  of  course,"  said  Helen.  "And  read  it  as  if 
you  meant  it;  if  I  like  it  I'll  tell  you  so." 

"I  wrote  it  for  nothing  but  to  please  you,"  was 
the  reply,  and  Arthur  took  a  much  bescrawled  piece 
of  paper  from  his  pocket;  the  girl  seated  herself 
upon  the  piano  stool  again  and  gazed  up  at  him  as 
he  rested  his  elbow  upon  the  top  of  the  piano  and 
read  his  lines.  There  could  not  have  been  a  situ 
ation  in  which  the  young  poet  would  have  read 
them  with  more  complete  happiness,  and  so  it  was 
a  pleasure  to  watch  him.  And  Helen's  eyes  kindled, 
and  her  cheeks  flushed  brightly  as  she  listened,  for 
she  found  that  the  verses  had  taken  their  imagery 
from  her  very  lips. 

In  the  May-time's  golden  glory 
Ere  the  quivering  sun  was  high, 

I  heard  the  Wind  of  Morning 

Through   the   laughing  meadows   fly; 

In  his  passion-song  was  throbbing 

All  the  madness  of  the  May, 
And  he  whispered:    Thou  hast  labored; 

Thou  art  weary ;   come  away ! 

Thou  shalt  drink  a  fiery  potion 

For  thy  prisoned  spirit's  pain; 
Thou  shalt  taste  the  ancient  rapture 

That  thy  soul  has  sought  in  vain. 

SO 


KING  MIDAS 

I  will  tell  thee  of  a.  maiden, 

One  who  has  thy  longing  fanned — 

Spirit  of  the  Forest  Music — 

Thou  shalt  take  her  by  the  hand, 

Lightly  by  her  rosy  fingers 

Trembling  with  her  keen  delight, 

And  her  flying  steps  shall  lead  thee 
Out  upon  the  mountain's  height; 

To  a  dance  undreamed  of  mortal 
To  the  Bacchanal  of  Spring, — 

Where  in  mystic  joy  united 

Nature's   bright-eyed   creatures   sing. 

There  the  green  things  of  the  mountain, 

Million-voiced,  newly-born, 
And  the  flowers  of  the  valley 

In  their  beauty's  crimson  morn ; 

There  the  winged  winds  of  morning, 
Spirits  unresting,  touched  with  fire, 

And  the  streamlets,  silver-throated, 
They  whose  leaping  steps  ne'er  tire! 

Thou  shalt  see  them,  ever  circling 
Round  about  a  rocky  spring, 

While  the  gaunt  old  forest-warriors 
Madly  their  wide  branches  fling. 

Thou  shalt  tread  the  whirling  measure, 
Bathe  thee  in  its  frenzied  strife ; 

Thou  shalt  have  a  mighty  memory 
For  thy  spirit's  after  life. 

Haste  thee  while  thy  heart  is  burning, 
While  thine  eyes  have  strength  to  see; 

Hark,  behind  yon  blackening  cloud-bank, 
To  the  Storm-King's  minstrelsy ! 

See,  he  stamps  upon  the  mountains, 
And  he  leaps  the  valleys  high! 

Now  he  smites  his  forest  harp-strings, 
And  he  sounds  his  thunder-cry: — 


KING  MIDAS 

Waken,  lift  ye  up,  ye  creatures, 
Sing  the  song,  each  living  thing! 

Join  ye  in  the  mighty  passion 
Of  the  Symphony  of  Spring! 

And  so  the  young  poet  finished,  his  cheeks  fairly 
on  fire,  and,  as  he  gazed  down  at  Helen,  his  hand 
trembling  so  that  he  could  hardly  hold  the  paper. 
One  glance  told  him  that  she  was  pleased,  for  the 
girl's  face  was  flushed  like  his  own,  and  her  eyes 
were  sparkling  with  delight.  Arthur's  heart  gave 
a  great  throb  within  him. 

"You  like  it!"  he  exclaimed. 

"Oh,  Arthur,  I  do!"  she  cried.  "Oh,  how  glorious 
you  must  have  been!"  And  trembling  with  girlish 
delight,  she  took  the  paper  from  his  hand  and 
placed  it  in  front  of  her  on  the  music  rack. 

"Oh,  .1  should  like  to  write  music  for  it!"  she  ex 
claimed;  "for  those  lines  about  the  Storm-King!" 

And  she  read  them  aloud,  clenching  her  hands 
and  %  shaking  her  head,  carried  away  by  the  image 
they  brought  before  her  eyes.  "Oh,  I  should  like 
music  for  it!"  she  cried  again. 

"I  don't  know  very  much  about  poetry,  you 
know,"  she  added,  laughing  excitedly.  "If  it's  about 
the  things  I  like,  I  can't  help  thinking  it's  fine.  It's 
just  the  same  with  music, — if  a  man  only  makes  it 
swift  and  strong,  so  that  it  leaps  and  flies  and  never 
tires,  that  is  all  I  care  about;  and  if  he  just  keeps  his 
trombones  till  the  very  last,  he  can  carry  me  off  my 
feet  though  he  makes  the  worst  noise  that  ever 
was!  It's  the  same  as  a  storm,  you  know,  Arthur; 
do  you  remember  how  we  used  to  go  up  on  our 
hillside  when  the  great  wind  was  coming,  and  when 


KING  MIDAS 

everything  \v;is  growing  still  and  black;  and  how 
wr  used  to  watch  tlu>  Ing  clouds  and  the  sheets  of 
rain,  and  run  for  home  when  we  heard  the  thunder? 
Once  when  you  were  away,  Arthur,  I  didn't  run, 
for  I  wanted  to  see  what  it  was  like;  and  I  stayed 
up  there  and  saw  it  all,  singing  the  'Ride  of  the 
Valkyries/  and  pretending  I  was  one  of  them  and 
could  gallop  with  the  wind.  For  the  wind  is  fine, 
Arthur!  It  fills  you  so  full  of  its  power  that  you 
stretch  out  your  arms  to  it,  and  it  makes  you  sing; 
and  it  comes,  and  it  comes  again,  stronger  than 
ever,  and  it  sweeps  you  on,  just  like  a  great  mass 
of  music.  And  then  it  howls  through  the  trees  and 
it  flies  over  the  valleys, — that  was  what  you  were 
thinking  of,  weren't  you,  Arthur?" 

And  Helen  stopped,  breathlessly,  and  gazed  at 
him;  her  cheeks  were  flushed,  and  her  hands  still 
tightly  clasped. 

"Yes,"  said  Arthur,  half  mechanically,  for  he  had 
lost  himself  in  the  girl's  enthusiasm,  and  felt  the 
storm  of  his  verses  once  more. 

"Your  poem  made  me  think  of  that  one  time  that 
was  so  gloriously,"  Helen  went  on.  "For  the  rain 
was  almost  blinding,  and  I  was  drenched,  but  I  did 
not  even  know  it.  For  oh,  the  thunder!  Arthur, 
you've  no  idea  what  thunder  is  like  till  you're  near 
it!  There  fell  one  fearful  bolt  quite  near  me,  a 
great  white,  living  thing,  as  thick  as  a  man's  body, 
and  the  crash  of  it  seemed  to  split  the  air.  But  oh, 
I  didn't  mind  it  a  bit!  <Der  Sanger  triumphirt  in 
Wettern!'  I  think  I  was  a  real  Valkyrie  that  time, 
and  I  only  wished  that  I  might  put  it  into  music." 

The  girl  turned  to  the  piano,  and  half  in  play 

53 


KING  MIDAS 

struck  a  great  rumbling  chord,  that  rolled  and 
echoed  through  the  room;  she  sounded  it  once  more, 
laughing  aloud  with  glee.  Arthur  had  sunk  down 
upon  a  chair  beside  her,  and  was  bending  forward, 
watching  her  with  growing  excitement.  For  again 
and  again  Helen  struck  the  keys  with  all  the  power 
of  her  arms,  until  they  seemed  to  give  forth  real 
storm  and  thunder;  and  as  she  went  on  with  her 
reckless  play  the  mood  grew  upon  her,  and  she  lost 
herself  in  the  vision  of  the  Storm-King  sweeping 
through  the  sky.  She  poured  out  a  great  stream 
of  his  wild  music,  singing  away  to  herself  excitedly 
in  the  meantime.  And  as  the  rush  continued  and 
the  fierce  music  swelled  louder,  the  phantasy  took 
hold  of  the  girl  and  carried  her  beyond  herself. 
She  seemed  to  become  the  very  demon  of  the  storm, 
unbound  and  reckless;  she  smote  the  keys  with 
right  royal  strength,  and  the  piano  seemed  a  thing 
of  life  beneath  her  touch.  The  pace  became  faster, 
and  the  thunder  rattled  and  crashed  more  wildly, 
and  there  awoke  in  the  girl's  soul  a  power  of  musi 
cal  utterance  that  she  had  never  dreamed  of  in  her 
life  before.  Her  whole  being  was  swept  away  in 
ecstasy;  her  lips  were  moving  excitedly,  and  her 
pulses  were  leaping  like  mad.  She  seemed  no 
longer  to  know  of  the  young  man  beside  her,  who 
was  bent  forward  with  clenched  hands,  carried  be 
yond  himself  by  the  sight  of  her  exulting  power. 

And  in  the  meantime,  Helen's  music  was  surging 
on,  building  itself  up  into  a  great  climax  that 
swelled  and  soared  and  burst  in  a  deafening  thun 
der  crash;  and  while  the  air  was  still  throbbing  and 


54 


KING  MIDAS 

echoing  with  it,  the  girl  joined  to  it  her  deep  voice, 
grown  suddenly  conscious  of  new  power: 

"See,  he  stamps  upon  the  mountains, 

And  he  leaps  the  valleys  high! 
Now  he  smites  his  forest  harp-strings, 
And  he  sounds  his  thunder  cry!" 

And  as  the  cry  caine  the  girl  laughed  aloud,  like 
a  very  Valkyrie  indeed,  her  laugh  part  of  the  music, 
and  carried  on  by  it;  and  then  gradually  as  the 
tempest  swept  on,  the  rolling  thunder  was  lost  in 
a  march  that  was  the  very  tread  of  the  Storm-King. 
And  the  march  broadened,  and  the  thunder  died  out 
of  it  slowly,  and  all  the  wild  confusion,  and  then 
it  rose,  glorious  and  triumphant,  and  turned  to  a 
mighty  pean,  a  mightier  one  than  ever  Helen  could 
have  made.  The  thought  of  it  had  come  to  her  as 
an  inspiration,  and  as  a  refuge,  that  the  glory  of  her 
passion  might  not  be  lost.  The  march  had  led  her 
to  it,  and  now  it  had  taken  her  in  its  arms  and 
swept  her  away,  as  it  had  swept  millions  by  its 
majesty.  It  was  the  great  Ninth  Symphony  Hymn : 

"Hail  thee,  Joy!     From  Heaven  descending, 

Daughter    from    Elysium ! 
Ecstasy  our  hearts  inflaming, 

To  thy  sacred  shrine  we  come. 
Thine  enchantments   bind   together 

Those  whom  custom's  law  divides; 
All  are  brothers,  all  united, 
Where  thy  gentle  wing  abides." 

And  Helen  sang  it  as  one  possessed  by  it,  as  one 
made  drunk  with  its  glory — as  the  very  Goddess  of 
Joy  that  she  was.  For  the  Storm-King  and  his 
legions  had  fled,  and  another  vision  had  come  into 

55 


KING  MIDAS 

her  heart,  a  vision  that  every  one  ought  to  carry 
with  him  when  the  great  symphony  is  to  be  heard. 
He  should  see  the  hall  in  Vienna  where  it  was  given 
for  the  last  time  in  the  great  master's  life,  and  see 
the  great  master  himself,  the  bowed  and  broken 
figure  that  all  musicians  worship,  standing  up  to 
conduct  it;  and  see  him  leading  it  through  all  its 
wild  surging  passion,  almost  too  frantic  to  be  en 
dured;  and  then,  when  the  last  towering  climax 
has  passed  and  the  music  has  ceased  and  the  multi 
tude  at  his  back  has  burst  forth  into  its  thunder 
ing  shout,  see  the  one  pathetic  figure  standing  there 
aloft  before  all  eyes  and  still  blindly  beating  the 
time.  There  must  have  been  tears  in  the  eyes  of 
every  man  in  that  place  to  know  the  reason  for  it, — 
that  he  from  whose  heart  all  their  joy  had  come, 
he  who  was  lord  and  master  of  it,  had  never  heard 
in  his  life  and  could  never  hope  to  hear  one  sound 
of  that  music  he  had  written,  but  must  dwell  a 
prisoner  in  darkness  and  solitude  forever. 

That  was  the  picture  before  Helen's  eyes;  she  did 
not  think  of  the  fearful  tragedy  of  it — she  had  no 
feeling  for  tragedy,  she  knew  no  more  about  suffer 
ing  than  a  child  just  born.  But  joy  she  knew,  and 
joy  she  was;  she  was  the  multitude  lifted  up  in  its 
ecstasy,  throbbing,  burning  and  triumphant,  and 
she  sang  the  great  choruses,  one  after  another,  and 
the  piano  beneath  her  fingers  thundered  and  rang 
with  the  instrumental  part.  Surely  in  all  music 
there  is  no  utterance  of  joy  so  sustained  and  so 
overwhelming  in  its  intensity  as  this;  it  is  a  frenzy 
almost  more  than  man  can  stand;  it  is  joy  more 
than  human — the  joy  of  existence: — 

56 


KING  MIDAS 

"Pleasure    every    creature    living 

From  kind  Nature's  breast  receives; 
Good  and  evil,  all  are  seeking 
For  the  rosy  path  she  leaves." 

And  so  the  torrent  of  passionate  exultation  swept 
Helen  onward  with  it  until  the  very  end,  the  last 
frantic  prestissimo  chorus,  and  then  she  sprang  to 
her  feet  and  flung  up  her  hands  with  a  cry.  She 
stood  thus  for  a  moment,  glowing  with  exultation, 
and  then  she  sank  down  again  and  sat  staring  be 
fore  her,  the  music  still  echoing  through  every 
fiber  of  her  soul,  and  the  shouting  multitude  still 
surging  before  her. 

For  just  how  long  that  lasted,  she  knew  not,  but 
only  that  her  wild  mood  was  gradually  subsiding, 
and  that  she  felt  herself  sinking  back,  as  a  bird 
sinks  after  its  flight;  then  suddenly  she  turned. 
Arthur  was  at  her  side,  and  she  gave  a  cry,  for  he 
had  seized  her  hand  in  his,  and  was  covering  it  with 
burning  kisses. 

"Arthur!    Arthur!"  she  gasped. 

The  young  man  gazed  up  at  her,  and  Helen  re 
membered  the  scene  in  the  forest,  and  realized  what 
she  had  done.  She  had  shaken  him  to  the  very 
depths  of  his  being  by  the  emotion  which  she  had 
flung  loose  before  him,  and  he  seemed  beside  him 
self  at  that  moment,  his  hair  disordered  and  his 
forehead  hot  and  flushed.  He  made  a  move  as  if  to 
clasp  the  girl  in  his  arms,  and  Helen  tore  her 
hand  loose  by  main  force  and  sprang  back  to  the 
doorway. 

"Arthur!"  she  cried.    "What  do  you  mean?" 

He  clutched  at  a  chair  for  support,  and  stood 

57 


KING  MIDAS 

staring  at  her.  For  fully  a  minute  they  remained 
thus,  Helen  trembling  with  alarm;  then  his  head 
sank,  and  he  flung  himself  down  upon  the  sofa, 
where  he  lay  sobbing  passionately.  Helen  remained 
gazing  at  him  with  wide  open  and  astonished  eyes. 

"Arthur!''  she  exclaimed  again. 

But  he  did  not  hear  her,  for  the  cruel  sobbing 
that  shook  his  frame.  Helen,  as  soon  as  her  first 
alarm  had  passed,  came  softly  nearer,  till  she  stood 
by  the  sofa;  but  still  he  did  not  heed  her,  and  she 
did  not  dare  even  to  put  her  hand  upon  his  shoulder. 
She  was  afraid  of  him,  her  dearest  friend,  and  she 
knew  not  what  to  make  of  him. 

"Arthur,"  she  whispered  again,  when  he  was 
silent  for  a  moment.  "Please  speak  to  me,  Arthur." 

The  other  gazed  up  at  her  with  a  look  of  such  help 
less  despair  and  longing  upon  his  face  that  Helen 
was  frightened  still  more.  He  had  been  sobbing 
as  if  his  heart  would  break,  but  his  eyes  were  dry. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  she  cried. 

The  young  man  answered  her  hoarsely:  "Can 
you  not  see  what  is  the  matter,  Helen?  I  love  you! 
And  you  drive  me  mad!" 

The  girl  turned  very  pale,  and  lowered  her  eyes 
before  his  burning  gaze. 

"Helen,"  the  other  went  on  impetuously,  "you 
will  break  my  heart  if  you  treat  me  in  this  way. 
Do  you  not  know  that  for  three  long  years  I  have 
been  dreaming  of  you,  and  of  the  promise  that  you 
gave  me?  You  told  me  that  you  loved  me,  and  that 
you  always  would  love  me!  You  told  me  that  the 
night  before  you  went  away;  and  you  kissed  me. 
All  this  time  I  have  been  thinking  of  that  kiss,  and 

58 


KING  MIDAS 

cherishing  the  memory  of  it,  and  waiting  for  yon 
to  return.  I  have  labored  for  no  other  reason,  I 
have  had  no  other  hope  in  the  world;  I  have  kept 
your  image  before  me,  and  lived  in  it,  and  wor 
shiped  before  it,  and  the  thought  of  you  has  been 
all  that  I  had.  When  I  was  tired  and  worn  and  ill 
I  could  only  think  of  you  and  remember  your 
promise,  and  count  the  days  before  your  return. 
And,  oh,  it  has  been  so  long  that  I  could  not  stand 
it!  For  weeks  I  have  been  so  impatient,  and  so 
filled  with  the  thought  of  the  day  when  I  might  see 
you  again  that  I  have  been  helpless  and  half  mad; 
for  I  thought  that  I  should  take  your  hand  in  mine 
and  claim  your  promise.  And  this  morning  I 
wrandered  about  the  woods  for  hours,  waiting  for 
you  to  come.  And  see  how  you  have  treated  me!" 

He  buried  his  face  in  his  hands  again,  and  Helen 
stood  gazing  at  him,  breathing  very  fast  with  alarm, 
and  unable  to  find  a  word  to  say. 

"Helen,"  he  groaned,  without  looking  up  again, 
"do  you  not  know  that  you  are  beautiful?  Have 
you  no  heart?  You  fling  your  soul  bare  before  me, 
and  you  fill  me  with  this  fearful  passion;  you  will 
drive  me  mad!" 

"But,  Arthur,"  she  protested,  "I  could  not  think 
of  you  so;  I  thought  of  you  as  my  brother,  and  I 
meant  to  make  you  happy." 

"Tell  me,  then,"  he  gasped,  staring  at  her,  "tell 
me  once  for  all.  You  do  not  love  me,  Helen?" 

The  girl  answered  with  a  frank  gaze  that  was 
cruel,  "No,  Arthur/' 

"And  you  can  never  love  me?  You  take  back  the 
promise  that  you  made  me?" 

59 


KING  MIDAS 

"I  told  you  that  I  was  only  a  child,  Arthur;  it 
has  been  a  long  time  since  I  have  thought  of  it." 

The  young  man  choked  back  a  sob.  "Oh,  Helen, 
if  you  only  knew  what  cruel  words  those  are,"  he 
groaned.  "I  cannot  bear  them." 

He  gazed  at  her  with  his  burning  eyes,  so  that  the 
girl  lowered  hers  again.  "Tell  me!"  he  exclaimed. 
"What  am  I  to  do?" 

"Can  we  not  remain  friends,  just  as  we  used  to 
be?"  she  asked  pleadingly.  "Can  we  not  talk  to 
gether  and  help  each  other  as  before?  Oh,  Arthur, 
I  thought  you  would  come  here  to  live  all  summer, 
and  how  I  should  like  it!  Why  can  you  not?  Can 
you  not  let  me  play  for  you  without — without — " 
and  Helen  stopped,  and  flushed  a  trifle;  "I  do  not 
know  quite  what  to  make  of  you  to-day,"  she  added. 

She  was  speaking  kindly,  but  to  the  man  beside 
her  with  his  burning  heart,  her  words  were  hard 
to  hear;  he  stared  at  her,  shuddering,  and  then 
suddenly  he  clenched  his  hands  and  started  to  his 
feet. 

"Helen,"  he  cried,  "there  is  but  one  thing.  I 
must  go!" 

"Go?"  echoed  Helen. 

"If  I  stay  here  and  gaze  at  you  I  shall  go  mad 
with  despair,"  he  exclaimed  incoherently.  "Oh,  I 
shall  go  mad!  For  I  do  love  you,  and  you  talk  to 
me  as  if  I  were  a  child!  Helen,  I  must  get  this  out 
of  my  heart  in  some  way,  I  cannot  stay  here.'' 

"But,  Arthur,"  the  girl  protested,  "I  told  father 
you  would  stay,  and  you  will  make  yourself  ill,  for 
you  have  walked  all  day." 

Every  word  she  uttered  was  more  torment  to  the 

60 


KING  MIDAS 

other,  for  it  showed  him  how  much  his  hopes  were 
gone  to  wreck.  He  rushed  across  the  room  and 
opened  the  door;  then,  however,  he  paused,  as  if  that 
had  cost  him  all  his  resolution.  He  gazed  at  the  girl 
with  a  look  of  unspeakable  yearning,  his  face  white, 
and  his  limbs  trembling  beneath  him. 

"You  wish  me  to  go,  Helen?"  he  exclaimed. 

"Wish  you!"  exclaimed  Helen,  who  was  watch 
ing  him  in  alarm.  "Of  course  not;  I  want  you  to 
stay  and  see  father,  and — 

"And  hear  you  tell  me  that  you  do  not  love  me! 
Oh,  Helen,  how  can  you  say  it  again?  Can  you  not 
see  what  you  have  done  to  me?" 

"Arthur!''  cried  the  girl. 

"Yes,  what  you  have  done  to  me!  You  have  made 
me  so  that  I  dare  not  stay  near  you.  You  must  love 
me,  Helen,  oh,  some  time  you  must!"  And  he  came 
toward  her  again,  stretching  out  his  arms  to  her. 
As  she  sprang  back,  frowning,  he  stopped  and  stood 
for  an  instant,  half  sinking;  then  he  whirled  about 
and  darted  out  of  the  door. 

Helen  was  scarcely  able  to  realize  at  first  that 
he  was  gone,  but  when  she  looked  out  she  saw  that 
.he  was  already  far  down  the  street,  walking  swiftly. 
For  a  moment  she  thought  of  calling  him;  but  she 
checked  herself,  and  closed  the  door  quietly  instead, 
after  which  she  walked  slowly  across  the  room.  In 
the  center  of  it  she  stopped  still,  gazing  in  front  of 
her  thoughtfully,  and  looking  very  grave  indeed. 
"That  is  dreadful,"  she  said  slowly.  "I  had  no  idea 
of  such  a  thing.  \Yhat  in  the  world  am  I  to  do?" 

There  was  a  tall  mirror  between  the  two  windows 
of  the  room,  and  Helen  went  toward  it  and  stood 

61 


KING  MIDAS 

in  front  of  it,  gazing  earnestly  at  herself.  "Is  it 
true,  then,  that  I  am  so  very  beautiful?"  she  mused. 
"And  even  Arthur  must  fall  in  love  with  me!" 

Helen's  face  was  still  flushed  with  the  glory  of 
her  ride  with  the  Storm-King;  she  smoothed  back 
the  long  strands  of  golden  hair  that  had  come  loose, 
and  then  she  looked  at  herself  again.  "It  is  dread 
ful,"  she  said  once  more,  half  aloud,  "I  do  not  think 
I  ever  felt  so  nervous  in  iny  life,  and  I  don't  know 
what  to  do;  everything  I  did  to  please  him  seemed 
only  to  make  him  more  miserable.  I  wanted  him  to 
be  happy  with  me;  I  wanted  him  to  stay  with  me." 
And  she  walked  away  frowning,  and  seated  herself 
at  the  piano  and  began  peevishly  striking  at  the 
keys.  "I  am  going  to  write  to  him  and  tell  him  that 
he  must  get  over  that  dreadfulness,"  she  muttered 
after  a  while,  "and  come  back  and  be  friends  with 
me.  Oakdale  will  be  too  stupid  without  him  all 
summer,  and  I  should  be  miserable." 

She  was  just  rising  impatiently  when  the  front 
door  opened  and  her  father  came  in,  exclaiming  in  a 
cheery  voice,  "Well,  children!''  Then  he  stopped 
in  surprise.  "Why,  someone  told  me  Arthur  was 
here!"  he  exclaimed. 

"He's  gone  home  again,"  said  Helen,  in  a  dis 
satisfied  tone. 

"Home!"  exclaimed  the  other.    "To  Hilltown?" 

"Yes." 

"But  I  thought  he  was  going  to  stay  until  to 
morrow." 

"So  did  I,"  said  Helen,  "but  he  changed  his  mind 
and  decided  that  he'd  better  not." 

"Why,  I  am  really  disappointed,"  said  Mr.  Davis. 

62 


KING  MIDAS 

"I  thought  we  should  have  a  little  family  party;  I 
haven't  seen  Arthur  for  a  month." 

''There  is  some  important  reason,"  said  Helen — 
"that's  what  he  told  me,  anyway."  She  did  not 
want  her  father  to  have  any  idea  of  the  true  reason, 
or  to  ask  any  inconvenient  questions. 

Mr.  Davis  would  perhaps  have  done  so,  had  he 
not  something  else  on  his  mind.  "By  the  way, 
Helen,"  he  said,  "I  must  ask  you,  what  in  the  world 
was  that  fearful  noise  you  were  making?" 

"Noise?"  asked  Helen,  puzzled  for  a  moment. 

"Why,  yes;  I  met ...oid  Mr.  Nelson  coming  down 
the  street,  and  he  said  that  you  were  making  a 
most  dreadful  racket  upon  the  piano,  and  shouting, 
too,  and  that  there  were  a  dozen  people  standing 
in  the  street,  staring!" 

A  sudden  wild  thought  occurred  to  Helen,  and 
she  whirled  about.  Sure  enough,  she  found  the  two 
windows  of  the  room  wide  open;  and  that  was  too 
much  for  her  gravity;  she  flung  herself  upon  the 
sofa  and  gave  vent  to  peal  after  peal  of  laughter. 

"Oh,  Daddy!"  she  gasped.    "Oh,  Daddy!" 

Mr.  Davis  did  not  understand  the  joke,  but  he 
waited  patiently,  taking  off  his  gloves  in  the  mean 
time.  "What  it  is,  Helen?"  he  enquired. 

"Oh,  Daddy!"  exclaimed  the  girl  again,  and  lifted 
herself  up  and  turned  her  laughing  eyes  upon  him. 
"And  now  I  understand  why  inspired  people  have 
to  live  in  the  country!" 

"W7hat  was  it,  Helen?" 

"It — it  wasn't  anything,  Daddy,  except  that  I  was 
playing  and  singing  for  Arthur,  and  I  forgot  to 
close  the  windows." 

63 


KING  MIDAS 

"You  must  remember,  my  love,  that  you  live  in  a 
clergyman's  house,"  said  Mr.  Davis.  "I  have  no  ob 
jection  to  merriment,  but  it  must  be  within  bounds. 
Mr.  Nelson  said  that  he  did  not  know  what  to  think 
was  the  matter." 

Helen  made  a  wry  face  at  the  name;  the  Nelsons 
were  a  family  of  Methodists  who  lived  across  the 
way.  Methodists  are  people  who  take  life  seriously 
as  a  rule,  and  Helen  thought  the  Nelsons  were  very 
queer  indeed. 

"I'll  bet  he  did  know  what  to  think,"  she 
chuckled,  "even  if  he  didn't  say  it;  he  thought  that 
was  just  what  to  expect  from  a  clergyman  who  had 
a  decanter  of  wine  on  his  dinner  table." 

Mr.  Davis  could  not  help  smiling.  And  as  for 
Helen,  she  was  herself  all  over  again;  for  when  her 
father  had  come  in,  she  had  about  reached  a  point 
where  she  could  no  longer  bear  to  be  serious  and 
unhappy.  As  he  went  on  to  ask  her  to  be  a  little 
less  reckless,  Helen  put  her  arms  around  him  and 
said,  with  the  solemnity  that  she  always  wore  when 
she  was  gayest:  "But,  Daddy,  I  don't  know  what 
I'm  to  do;  you  sent  me  to  Germany  to  study  music, 
and  if  I'm  never  to  play  it — 

"Yes,  but  Helen;  such  frantic,  dreadful  noise!" 

"But,  Daddy,  the  Germans  are  emotional  people, 
you  know;  no  one  would  have  been  in  the  least  sur 
prised  at  that  in  Germany;  it  was  a  hymn,  Daddy!" 

"A  hymn!"  gasped  Mr.  Davis. 

"Yes,  honestly,"  said  Helen.  "It  is  a  wonderful 
hymn.  Every  German  knows  it  nearly  by  heart." 

Mr.  Davis  had  as  much  knowledge  of  German 
music  as  might  be  expected  of  one  who  had  lived 

64 


KING  MIDAS 

twenty  years  in  the  country  and  heard  three  hymns 
and  an  anthem  sung  every  Sunday  br  a  volunteer 
choir.  Helen's  musical  education,  as  all  her  other 
education,  had  been  superintended  by  Aunt  Polly, 
and  the  only  idea  that  came  to  Mr.  Davis'  mind  was 
of  Wagner,  whose  name  he  had  heard  people  talk 
about  in  connection  with  noise  and  incoherency. 

"Helen,"  he  said,  "I  trust  that  is  not  the  kind  of 
hymn  you  are  going  to  sing  to-morrow." 

"I  don't  know,"  was  the  puzzled  reply.  "I'll  see 
what  I  can  do,  Daddy.  It's  dreadfully  hard  to  find 
anything  in  German  music  like  the  slow-going, 
practical  lives  that  we  dull  Yankees  lead."  Then 
a  sudden  idea  occurred  to  the  girl,  and  she  ran  to 
the  piano  with  a  gleeful  laugh:  "Just  see,  for  in 
stance,"  she  said,  fumbling  hurriedly  amongst  her 
music,  "I  was  playing  the  Moonlight  Sonata  this 
morning,  and  that's  a  good  instance." 

"This  is  the  kind  of  moonlight  they  have  in  Ger 
many,"  she  laughed  when  she  found  it.  After  ham 
mering  out  a  few  discords  of  her  own  she  started 
recklessly  into  the  incomprehensible  "presto,"  thun 
dering  away  at  every  crescendo  as  if  to  break  her 
fingers.  "Isn't  it  fine,  Daddy?"  she  cried,  gazing 
over  her  shoulder. 

"I  don't  see  what  it  has  to  do  with  the  moon," 
said  the  clergyman,  gazing  helplessly  at  the  open 
window,  and  wondering  if  another  crowd  was 
gathering. 

"That's  what  everybody's  been  trying  to  find 
out!"  said  Helen;  then,  as  she  heard  the  dinner  bell 
out  in  the  hall,  she  ended  with  half  a  dozen  frantic 
runs,  and  jumping  up  with  the  last  of  them,  took 

5  65 


KING  MIDAS 

her  father's  arm  and  danced  out  of  the  room  with 
him. 

"Perhaps  when  we  come  to  see  the  other  side  of 
the  moon,"  she  said,  "we  may  discover  all  about  it. 
Or  else  it's  because  the  moon  is  supposed  to  set 
people  crazy."  So  they  passed  in  to  dinner,  where 
Helen  was  as  animated  as  ever,  poor  Arthur  and 
his  troubles  seeming  to  have  vanished  completely 
from  her  thoughts. 

In  fact,  it  was  not  until  the  meal  was  nearly  over 
that  she  spoke  of  them  again;  she  noticed  that  it 
was  growing  dark  outside,  and  she  stepped  to  the 
window  just  as  a  distant  rumble  of  thunder  was 
heard. 

"Dear  me!"  she  exclaimed.  "There's  a  fearful 
storm  coming,  and  poor  Arthur  is  out  in  it;  he  must 
be  a  long  way  from  town  by  this  time,  and  there  is 
no  house  where  he  can  go."  From  the  window  where 
she  stood  she  had  a  view  across  the  hills  in  back  of 
the  town,  and  could  see  the  black  clouds  coming 
swiftly  on.  "It  is  like  we  were  imagining  this  morn 
ing,"  she  mused;  "I  wonder  if  he  will  think  of  it." 

The  dinner  was  over  soon  after  that,  and  she 
looked  out  again,  just  as  the  first  drops  of  rain  were 
falling;  the  thunder  was  rolling  louder,  bringing 
to  Helen  a  faint  echo  of  her  morning  music.  She 
went  in  and  sat  down  at  the  piano,  her  fingers  roam 
ing  over  the  keys  hesitatingly.  "I  wish  I  could  get 
it  again,"  she  mused.  "It  seems  like  a  dream  when 
I  think  of  it,  it  was  so  wild  and  so  wonderful.  Oh, 
if  I  could  only  remember  that  march!" 

There  came  a  crash  of  thunder  near  by,  as  if  to 
help  her,  but  Helen  found  that  all  efforts  were  in 

66 


KING  MIDAS 

vain.  Neither  the  storm  music  nor  the  march  came 
hack  to  her,  and  even  when  she1  played  a  few  chords 
<»f  the  great  chorus  she  had  sung,  it  sounded  tame 
and  commonplace.  Helen  knew  that  the  glory  of 
that  morning  was  gone  where  goes  the  best  in 
spiration  of  all  humanity,  back  into  nothingness 
and  night. 

"It  was  a  shame,"  she  thought,  as  she  rose  discon 
tentedly  from  the  piano.  "I  never  was  so  carried 
away  by  music  in  my  life,  and  the  memory  of  it 
would  have  kept  me  happy  for  weeks,  if  Arthur 
hadn't  been  here  to  trouble  me!" 

Then,  however,  as  she  went  to  the  window  again 
to  watch  the  storm  which  was  now  raging  in  all  its 
majesty,  she  added  more  unselfishly:  "Poor  boy! 
It  is  dreadful  to  think  of  him  being  out  in  it."  She 
saw  a  bolt  of  lightning  strike  in  the  distance,  and 
she  waited  breathlessly  for  the  thunder.  It  was  a 
fearful  crash,  and  it  made  her  blood  run  faster,  and 
her  eyes  sparkle.  "My!''  she  exclaimed.  "But  it's 
fine!"  And  then  she  added  with  a  laugh,  "He  can 
correct  his  poem  by  it,  if  he  wants  to!" 

She  turned  to  go  upstairs.  On  the  way  she 
stopped  with  a  rather  conscience-stricken  look,  and 
said  to  herself,  "Poor  fellow!  It  seems  a  shame  to 
be  happy!"  She  stood  for  a  moment  thinking,  but 
then  she  added,  "Yet  I  declare,  I  don't  know  what 
to  do  for  him;  it  surely  isn't  my  fault  if  I  am  not 
in  love  with  him  in  that  mad  fashion,  and  I  don't 
see  why  I  should  make  myself  wretched  about  it!" 
Having  thus  silenced  her  conscience,  she  went  up  to 
unpack  her  trunks,  humming  to  herself  on  the  way: 

67 


KING  MIDAS 

"Sir  Knight,  a  faithful   sister's  lor» 

This  heart  devotes  to  thee; 

I  pray  thee  ask  no  other  love, 

For  pain  that  causes  me. 

"Quiet  would  I  see  thee  come, 

And  quiet  see  thee  go; 
The  silent  weeping  of  thine  eyet 
I  cannot  bear  to  know." 

While  she  was  singing  Arthur  was  in  the  midst  of 
the  tempest,  staggering  towards  his  home  ten  miles 
away.  He  was  drenched  by  the  cold  rain,  and  shiv 
ering  and  almost  fainting  from  exhaustion — for  he 
had  eaten  nothing  since  early  dawn;  yet  so  wretched 
and  sick  at  heart  was  he  that  he  felt  nothing,  and 
scarcely  heard  the  storm  or  realized  where  he  was. 


^-*—?rJ^.        -J.     ^      ^  . 


CHAPTER  IV 

"Dosn't  thou  'ear  my  'erse's  legs,  as  they  canters  awaiiy? 
Proputty,  proputty,  proputty — that's  what  I  'ears  'em  saay. 

But  I  knawed  a  Quaiiker  feller  as  often  'as  towd  ma  this: 
'Doiint  thou  marry  for  munny,  but  goa  wheer  munny  is!"3 

HELEN  had  much  to  do  to  keep  her  busy  during 
the  next  few  days.  She  had  in  the  first  place  to  re 
ceive  visits  from  nearly  everybody  in  Oakdale,  for 
she  was  a  general  favorite  in  the  town,  and  besides 
that  everyone  was  curious  to  see  what  effect  the 
trip  had  had  upon  her  beauty  and  accomplishments. 
Then  too,  she  had  the  unpacking  of  an  incredible 
number  of  trunks;  it  was  true  that  Helen,  having 
been  a  favored  boarder  at  an  aristocratic  seminary, 
was  not  in  the  habit  of  doing  anything  troublesome 
herself,  but  she  considered  it  necessary  to  super 
intend  the  servant.  Last  of  all  there  was  a  great 
event  at  the  house  of  her  aunt,  Mrs.  Roberts,  to  be 
anticipated  and  prepared  for. 

It  has  been  said  that  the  marriage  of  Mr.  Davis 
had  been  a  second  romance  in  that  worthy  man's 
career,  he  having  had  the  fortune  to  win  the  love  of 
a  daughter  of  a  very  wealthy  family  which  lived 
near  Oakdale.  The  parents  had  of  course  been  bit 
terly  opposed  to  the  match,  but  the  girl  had  had  her 
way.  Unfortunately,  however,  the  lovers,  or  at 

69 


KING  MIDAS 

any  rate  the  bride,  having  been  without  any  real 
idea  of  duty  or  sacrifice,  the  match  had  proved 
one  of  those  that  serve  to  justify  the  opinions  of 
people  who  are  "sensible;"  the  young  wife,  weary 
ing  of  the  lot  she  had  chosen,  had  sunk  into  a  state 
of  peevish  discontent  from  which  death  came  to 
relieve  her. 

Of  this  prodigal  daughter  Aunt  Polly  was  the 
elder,  and  wiser,  sister.  She  had  never  ceased  to 
urge  upon  the  other,  both  before  and  after  mar 
riage,  the  folly  of  her  conduct,  and  had  lived  her 
self  to  be  a  proof  of  her  own  more  excellent  sense, 
having  married  a  wealthy  stockbroker  who  proved 
a  good  investment,  trebling  his  own  capital  and 
hers  in  a  few  years.  Aunt  Polly  therefore  had  a 
fine  home  upon  Madison  Avenue  in  New  York,  and 
a  most  aristocratic  country-seat  a  few  miles  from 
Oakdale,  together  with  the  privilege  of  frequenting 
the  best  society  in  New  York,  and  of  choosing  her 
friends  amongst  the  most  wealthy  in  the  neigh 
borhood  of  the  little  town.  This  superiority  to  her 
erring  sister  had  probably  been  one  of  the  causes 
that  had  contributed  to  develop  the  most  prominent 
trait  in  her  character — which  is  perhaps  the  most 
prominent  trait  of  high  society  in  general — a  com 
plete  satisfaction  with  the  world  she  knew,  and 
what  she  knew  about  it,  and  the  part  she  played  in 
it.  For  the  rest,  Aunt  Polly  was  one  of  those 
bustling  little  women  who  rule  the  world  in  almost 
everything,  because  the  world  finds  it  is  too  much 
trouble  to  oppose  them.  She  had  assumed,  and  had 
generally  succeeded  in  having  recognized,  a  com 
plete  superiority  to  Mr.  Davis  in  her  knowledge 

70 


KING  MIDAS 

about  life,  with  the  result  that,  as  has  been  stated, 
the  education  of  the  one  child  of  the  unfortunate 
marriage  had  been  managed  by  her. 

When,  therefore,  Helen  had  come  off  the  steamer, 
it  had  been  Mrs.  Roberts  who  was  there  to  meet 
her;  and  the  arrangement  announced  was  that  the 
girl  was  to  have  three  days  to  spend  with  her 
father,  and  was  then  to  come  for  a  week  or  two 
at  her  aunt's,  who  was  just  opening  her  country 
home  and  who  intended  to  invite  a  score  of  people 
whom  she  considered,  for  reasons  of  her  own, 
proper  persons  for  her  niece  to  meet.  Mrs.  Roberts 
spoke  very  condescendingly  indeed  of  the  company 
which  Helen  met  at  her  father's,  Mr.  Davis  having 
his  own  opinions  about  the  duty  of  a  clergyman 
toward  the  non-aristocratic  members  of  his  flock. 

The  arrangement,  it  is  scarcely  necessary  to  say, 
pleased  Helen  very  much  indeed;  the  atmosphere 
of  luxury  and  easy  superiority  which  she  found  at 
her  aunt's  was  much  to  her  taste,  and  she  looked 
forward  to  being  a  center  of  attraction  there  with 
the  keenest  delight.  In  the  meantime,  however, 
she  slaked  her  thirst  for  happiness  just  as  well  at 
Oakdale,  accepting  with  queenly  grace  the  homage 
of  all  who  came  to  lay  their  presents  at  her  feet. 
Sunday  proved  to  be  a  day  of  triumph,  for  all  the 
town  had  come  to  church,  and  was  as  much  stirred 
by  the  glory  of  her  singing  as  Arthur  had  pre 
dicted.  After  the  service  everyone  waited  to  tell 
her  about  it,  and  so  she  was  radiant  indeed. 

By  Tuesday,  however,  all  that  had  come  to  seem 
a  trifling  matter,  for  that  afternoon  Aunt  Polly 
was  to  come,  and  a  new  world  was  to  be  opened  for 


KING  MIDAS 

her  conquest.  Helen  was  amusing  herself  by  sort 
ing  out  the  motley  collection  of  souvenirs  and 
curios  which  she  had  brought  home  to  decorate  her 
room,  when  she  heard  a  carriage  drive  up  at  the 
door,  and  a  minute  later  heard  the  voice  of  Mrs. 
Roberts'  footman  in  the  hall. 

Mrs.  Roberts  herself  did  not  alight,  and  Helen 
kept  her  waiting  only  long  enough  to  slip  on  her 
hat,  and  to  bid  her  father  a  hurried  farewell.  In  a 
minute  more  she  was  in  the  carriage,  and  was 
being  borne  in  state  down  the  main  street  of 
Oakdale. 

"You  are  beautiful  to-day,  my  dear,"  said  her 
aunt,  beaming  upon  her;  "I  hope  you  are  all  ready 
for  your  triumph." 

"I  think  so,"  said  Helen.  "I've  about  seen  every* 
body  and  everything  I  wanted  to  at  home;  I've  been 
wonderfully  happy,  Auntie." 

"That  is  right,  my  dear,"  said  Aunt  Polly.  "You 
have  certainly  every  cause  to  be,  and  you  would  be 
foolish  not  to  make  the  most  of  it.  But  I  should 
think  this  town  would  seem  a  somewhat  less  im 
portant  place  to  you,  after  all  that  you  have  seen 
of  the  world." 

"Yes,  it  does  a  little,"  laughed  Helen,  "but  it 
seemed  good  to  see  all  the  old  people  again." 

"Someone  told  me  they  saw  Arthur  here  on  Sat 
urday,"  said  the  other.  "Did  you  see  him?" 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Helen;  "that's  what  he  came  for. 
You  can  fancy  how  glad  I  was  to  meet  him.  I  spent 
a  couple  of  hours  walking  in  the  woods  with  him." 

Mrs.  Roberts'  look  of  dismay  may  be  imagined; 
it  was  far  too  great  for  her  to  hide. 

72 


KING  MIDAS 

"Where  is  he  now?"  she  asked,  hastily. 

"Oh,  lie  has  gone  home,"  said  Helen:  and  she 
added,  smiling,  "he  went  on  Saturday  afternoon, 
because  he's  writing  a  poem  about  thunderstorms, 
and  he  wanted  to  study  that  one." 

The  other  was  sufficiently  convinced  of  the  irre 
sponsibility  of  poets  to  be  half  uncertain  whether 
Helen  was  joking  or  not;  it  was  very  frequently 
difficult  to  tell,  anyway,  for  Helen  would  look 
serious  and  amuse  herself  by  watching  another 
person's  mystification — a  trait  of  character  which 
would  have  been  intolerable  in  anyone  less  fasci 
nating  than  she. 

Perhaps  Aunt  Polly  thought  something  of  that  as 
she  sat  and  watched  the  girl.  Aunt  Polly  was  a 
little  woman  who  looked  as  if  she  herself  might 
have  once  made  some  pretense  to  being  a  belle,  but 
she  was  very  humble  before  Helen.  "My  dear,"  she 
said,  "every  minute  that  I  watch  you,  I  am  aston 
ished  to  see  how  wonderfully  you  have  grown.  Do 
you  know,  Helen,  you  are  glorious!" 

"Yes,"  said  Helen,  smiling  delightedly.  "Isn't  it 
nice,  Aunt  Polly?  I'm  so  glad  I'm  beautiful." 

"You  funny  child,"  laughed  the  other.  "What  a 
queer  thing  to  say!" 

"Am  I  not  to  know  I  am  beautiful?"  inquired 
Helen,  looking  at  her  with  open  eyes.  "Why,  dear 
me!  I  can  look  at  myself  in  the  glass  and  be 
just  as  happy  as  anyone  else;  I  love  everything 
beautiful." 

Aunt  Polly  beamed  upon  her.  "I  am  glad  of  it,  my 
dear,"  she  laughed.  "I  only  wish  I  could  say  some- 

73 


KING  MIDAS 

thing  to  you  to  make  you  realize  what  your  wonder 
ful  beauty  means." 

"How,  Aunt  Polly?"  asked  the  girl.  "Have  you 
been  reading  poetry?" 

"No,"  said  the  other,  "not  exactly;  but  you  know 
very  well  in  your  heart  what  hopes  I  have  for  you, 
Helen,  and  I  only  wish  you  could  appreciate  the  gift 
that  has  been  given  you,  and  not  fling  it  away  in 
any  foolish  fashion.  With  your  talents  and  your 
education,  my  dear,  there  is  almost  nothing  that 
you  might  not  do." 

"Yes,"  said  Helen,  with  all  of  her  seriousness, 
"I  often  think  of  it;  perhaps,  Auntie,  I  might  be 
come  a  poetess!" 

The  other  looked  aghast.  Helen  had  seen  the 
look  on  her  aunt's  face  at  the  mention  of  her  walk 
with  Arthur,  and  being  a  young  lady  of  electrical 
wit,  had  understood  just  what  it  meant,  and  just 
how  the  rest  of  the  conversation  was  intended  to 
bear  upon  the  matter;  with  that  advantage  she  was 
quite  in  her  glory. 

"No,  indeed,  Aunt  Polly,"  she  said,  "you  can 
never  tell;  just  suppose,  for  instance,  I  were  to  fall 
in  love  with  and  marry  a  man  of  wonderful  genius, 
who  would  help  me  to  devote  myself  to  art?  It 
would  not  make  any  difference,  you  know,  if  he 
were  poor — we  could  struggle  and  help  each  other. 
And  oh,  I  tell  you,  if  I  were  to  meet  such  a  man, 
and  to  know  that  he  loved  me  truly,  and  to  have 
proof  that  he  could  remember  me  and  be  true  to  me, 
even  when  I  was  far  away,  oh,  I  tell  you,  nothing 
could  ever  keep  me " 

Helen  was  declaiming  her  glowing  speech  with 

74 


KING  MIDAS 

real  fervor,  her  hands  dramatically  outstretched. 
Hut  she  could  not  get  any  further,  for  the  look  of 
utter  horror  upon  her  auditor's  face  was  too  much 
for  her;  she  dropped  her  hands  and  made  the  air 
echo  with  her  laughter. 

"Oh,  Aunt  Polly,  you  goose!"  she  cried,  flinging 
one  arm  about  her,  ''have  you  really  forgotten  me 
that  much  in  three  years?" 

The  other  was  so  relieved  at  the  happy  de^noue- 
uient  of  that  fearful  tragedy  that  she  could  only 
protest,  "Helen,  Helen,  why  do  you  fool  me  so?" 

"Because  you  fool  me,  or  try  to,"  said  Helen. 
"When  you  have  a  sermon  to  preach  on  the  impro 
priety  of  walking  in  the  woods  alone  with  a  sus 
ceptible  young  poet,  I  wish  you'd  mount  formally 
into  the  pulpit  and  begin  with  the  text." 

"My  dear,"  laughed  the  other,  "you  are  too  quick; 
but  I  must  confess — 

"Of  course  you  must,"  said  the  girl;  and  she 
folded  her  hands  meekly  and  looked  grave.  "And 
now  I  am  ready;  and  if  you  meet  with  any  diffi 
culties  in  the  course  of  your  sermon,  I've  an  expert 
at  home  who  has  preached  one  hundred  and  four 
every  year  for  twenty  years,  all  genuine  and  no  two 
alike." 

"Helen,"  said  the  other,  "I  do  wish  you  would 
talk  seriously  with  me.  You  are  old  enough  to  be 
your  own  mistress  now,  and  to  do  as  you  please,  but 
you  ought  to  realize  that  I  have  seen  the  world 
more  than  you,  and  that  my  advice  is  worth  some 
thing." 

"Tell  it  to  me,"  said  Helen,  ceasing  to  laugh,  and 
leaning  back  in  the  carriage  and  gazing  at  her  aunt. 

75 


KING  MIDAS 

"What  do  you  want  me  to  do,  now  that  I  am  home? 
I  will  be  really  serious  if  you  wish  me  to,  for  that 
does  interest  me.  I  suppose  that  my  education  is 
finished  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  other,  "it  ought  to  be,  certainly; 
you  have  had  every  advantage  that  a  girl  can  have, 
a  great  deal  more  than  I  ever  had.  And  you  owe 
it  all  to  me,  Helen, — you  do,  really;  if  it  hadn't 
been  for  my  insisting  you'd  have  gotten  all  your 
education  at  Hilltown,  and  you'd  have  played  the 
piano  and  sung  like  Mary  Nelson  across  the  way." 

Helen  shuddered,  and  felt  that  that  was  cause 
indeed  for  gratitude. 

"It  is  true,"  said  her  aunt;  "I've  taken  as  much 
interest  in  you  as  in  any  one  of  my  own  children, 
and  you  must  know  it.  It  was  for  no  reason  at  all 
but  that  I  saw  what  a  wonderful  woman  you  prom 
ised  to  become,  and  I  was  anxious  to  help  you  to 
the  social  position  that  I  thought  you  ought  to  have. 
And  now,  Helen,  the  chance  is  yours  if  you  care  to 
take  it." 

"I  am  taking  it,  am  I  not?"  asked  Helen;  "I'm  go 
ing  with  you,  and  I  shall  be  just  as  charming  as  I 
can." 

"Yes,  I  know,"  said  the  other,  smiling  a  little; 
"but  that  is  not  exactly  what  I  mean." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"Of  course,  my  dear,  you  may  enter  good  society 
a  while  by  visiting  me;  but  that  will  not  be  per 
manently.  You  will  have  to  marry  into  it,  Helen 
dear." 

"Marry!"  echoed  the  girl,  taken  aback.  "Dear 
me!" 

76 


KING  MIDAS 

"You  will  wish  to  marry  some  time,"  said  the 
other,  "and  so  you  should  look  forward  to  it  and 
choose  your  course.  With  your  charms,  Helen, 
there  is  almost  nothing  that  you  might  not  hope 
for;  you  must  know  yourself  that  you  could  make 
any  man  fall  in  love  with  you  that  you  wished. 
And  you  ought  to  know  also  that  if  you  only  had 
wealth  you  could  enter  any  society;  for  you  have 
good  birth,  and  you  will  discover  that  you  have 
more  knowledge  and  more  wit  than  most  of  the 
people  you  meet." 

"I've  discovered  that  already,"  said  Helen,  laugh 
ing. 

"All  that  you  must  do,  my  love,"  went  on  the 
other,  "is  to  realize  what  is  before  you,  and  make 
up  your  mind  to  what  you  want.  You  know  that 
your  tastes  are  not  those  of  a  poor  woman;  you 
have  been  accustomed  to  comfort,  and  you  need  re 
finement  and  wealth;  you  could  never  be  happy  un 
less  you  could  entertain  your  friends  properly,  and 
live  as  you  pleased." 

"But  I  don't  want  to  marry  a  man  just  for  his 
money,"  protested  the  girl,  not  altogether  pleased 
with  her  aunt's  business-like  view. 

4'No  one  wants  you  to,"  the  other  responded;  "you 
may  marry  for  love  if  you  like;  but  it  is  not  im 
possible  to  love  a  rich  man,  is  it,  Helen?" 

"But,  Aunt  Polly,"  said  Helen,  "I  am  satisfied  as 
I  am  now.  I  do  not  want  to  marry  anybody.  The 
very  idea  makes  me  shudder." 

"I  am  not  in  the  least  anxious  that  you  should," 
was  the  answer.  "You  are  young,  and  you  may 
choose  your  own  time.  All  I  am  anxious  for  is  that 

77 


KING  MIDAS 

you  should  realize  the  future  that  is  before  you.  It 
is  dreadful  to  me  to  think  that  you  might  throw 
your  precious  chance  away  by  some  ridiculous 
folly/7 

Helen  looked  at  her  aunt  for  a  moment,  and  then 
the  irrepressible  smile  broke  out. 

"What  is  the  matter,  child?"  asked  the  other. 

"Nothing,  except  that  I  was  thinking  about  how 
these  thoughts  were  brought  up." 

"How  do  you  mean?" 

"Apropos  of  my  woodland  walk  with  poor  Ar 
thur.  Auntie,  I  do  believe  you're  afraid  I'm  going 
to  fall  in  love  with  the  dear  fellow." 

"No,"  said  Aunt  Polly;  "it  is  not  exactly  that, 
for  I'd  never  be  able  to  sleep  at  night  if  I  thought 
you  capable  of  anything  quite  so  ghastly.  But  we 
must  have  some  care  of  what  people  will  think,  my 
dear  Helen." 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  Aunt  Polly  did  have  some 
very  serious  fears  about  the  matter,  as  has  been 
hinted  before;  it  was,  perhaps,  a  kind  of  tribute 
to  the  divine  fire  which  even  society's  leaders  pay. 
If  it  had  been  a  question  of  a  person  of  her  own 
sense  and  experience,  the  word  "genius''  would 
have  suggested  no  danger  to  Mrs.  Roberts,  but  it 
was  different  with  a  young  and  probably  senti 
mental  person  like  Helen,  with  her  inflaming 
beauty. 

"As  a  matter  of  fact,  Aunt  Polly,"  said  Helen, 
"everybody  understands  my  intimacy  with  Arthur." 

"Tell  me,  Helen  dear,"  said  the  other,  turning  her 
keen  glance  upon  her;  "tell  me  the  honest  truth." 

"About  what?" 


KING  MIDAS 

"You  are  not  in  love  with  Arthur?" 

And  Helen  answered  her  with  her  eyes  very  wide 
open:  "No,  I  certainly  am  not  in  the  least." 

And  the  other  drew  secretly  a  great  breath  of 
relief.  "Is  he  in  love  with  you,  Helen?"  she  asked. 

As  Helen  thought  of  Arthur's  departure,  the 
question  could  not  but  bring  a  smile.  "I — I'm 
afraid  he  is,"  she  said— "a  very  little." 

''What  a  ridiculous  impertinence!"  exclaimed  the 
other,  indignantly. 

"Oh,  that's  all  right,  Auntie,"  said  Helen;  "he 
really  can't  help  it,  you  know."  She  paused  for  a 
moment,  and  then  she  went  on:  "Such  things  used 
to  puzzle  me  when  I  was  very  young,  and  I  used  to 
think  them  quite  exciting;  but  I'm  getting  used  to 
them  now.  All  the  men  seem  to  fall  in  love  with 
me, — they  do,  honestly,  and  I  don't  know  how  in  the 
world  to  help  it.  They  all  will  make  themselves 
wretched,  and  I'm  sure  it  isn't  my  fault.  I  haven't 
told  you  anything  about  my  German  lovers,  have 
I,  Auntie?" 

"Gracious,  no!"  said  the  other;  "were  there  any?" 

"Any?"  laughed  the  girl.  "I  might  have  robbed 
the  Emperor  of  a  whole  colonel's  staff,  and  the 
colonel  at  the  head  of  it.  But  I'll  tell  you  about 
Johann,  the  funniest  one  of  all;  I  think  he  really 
loved  me  more  than  all  the  rest." 

"Pray,  who  was  Johann?"  asked  Aunt  Polly, 
thinking  how  fortunate  it  was  that  she  learned  of 
these  things  only  after  the  danger  was  over. 

"I  never  will  forget  the  first  time  I  met  him," 
laughed  the  girl,  "the  first  day  I  went  to  the  school. 
Johann  was  a  little  boy  who  opened  the  door  for 

79 


KING  MIDAS 

me,  and  he  stared  at  me  as  if  he  were  in  a  trance; 
he  had  the  most  wonderful  round  eyes,  and  puffy 
red  cheeks  that  made  me  always  think  I'd  happened 
to  ring  the  bell  while  he  was  eating;  and  every 
time  after  that  he  saw  me  for  three  years  he  used  to 
gaze  at  me  in  the  same  helpless  wonder,  with  all 
fingers  of  his  fat  little  hands  wide  apa*rt." 

"What  a  disagreeable  wretch!"  said  the  other. 

"Not  in  the  least,"  laughed  Helen;  "I  liked  him. 
But  the  funniest  part  came  afterwards,  for  when 
I  came  away  Johann  had  grown  a  whole  foot,  and 
was  quite  a  man.  I  sent  for  him  to  put  the  straps 
on  my  trunks,  and  guess  what  he  did!  He  stared 
at  me  for  a  minute,  just  the  same  as  ever,  and  then 
he  ran  out  of  the  room,  blubbering  like  a  baby;  and 
that's  the  last  I  ever  saw  of  him." 

Helen  was  laughing  as  she  told  the  story,  but 
then  she  stopped  and  looked  a  little  conscience- 
stricken.  "Do  you  know,  Aunt  Folly,"  she  said,  "it 
is  really  a  dreadful  thing  to  make  people  unhappy 
like  that;  I  suppose  poor  Johann  had  spent  three 
whole  years  dreaming  about  the  enchanted  castle 
in  which  I  was  to  be  fairy  princess." 

"It  was  a  good  chance  for  a  romantic  marriage," 
said  the  other. 

"Yes,"  said  the  girl,  laughing  again;  "I  tried  to 
fancy  it.  He'd  have  kept  a  Wirthshaus,  I  suppose, 
and  I'd  have  served  the  guests;  and  Arthur  might 
have  come,  and  I'd  have  cut  Butterbrod  for  him 
and  he  could  have  been  my  Werther!  Wouldn't 
Arthur  have  made  a  fine  Werther,  though,  Aunt 
Polly?" 


80 


KING  MIDAS 

"And  blown  his  brains  out  afterwards,"  added 
the  other. 

"No,"  said  Helen,  "brains  are  too  scarce;  I'd 
rather  have  him  follow  Goethe's  example  and  write 
a  book  about  it  instead.  You  know  I  don't  believe 
half  the  things  these  poets  tell  you,  for  I  think  they 
put  themselves  through  their  dreadful  experiences 
just  to  tell  about  them  and  make  themselves  fa 
mous.  Don't  you  believe  that,  Auntie?" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  the  other  (  a  statement  which 
she  seldom  made).  "I  don't  know  much  about  such 
things.  Nobody  reads  poetry  any  more,  you  know, 
Helen,  and  it  doesn't  really  help  one  along  very 
much." 

"It  doesn't  do  any  harm,  does  it?"  inquired  the 
girl,  smiling  to  herself,  "just  a  little,  once  in  a 
while?" 

"Oh,  no,  of  course  not,"  said  the  other;  "I  be 
lieve  that  a  woman  ought  to  have  a  broad  educa 
tion,  for  she  never  knows  what  may  be  the  whims 
of  the  men  she  meets,  or  what  turn  a  conversation 
may  take.  All  I'm  afraid  of,  Helen,  is  that  if  you 
fill  your  mind  with  sentimental  ideas  you  might  be 
so  silly  as  to  fancy  that  you  were  doing  something 
romantic  in  throwing  your  one  great  chance  away 
upon  some  worthless  nobody.  I  want  you  to  realize 
what  you  are,  Helen,  and  that  you  owe  something 
to  yourself,  and  to  your  family,  too;  for  the  Roberts 
have  always  had  wealth  and  position  until  your 
mother  chose  to  marry  a  poor  man.  What  I  warn 
you  of  now  is  exactly  what  I  warned  her  of.  Your 
father  is  a  good  man,  but  he  had  absolutely  nothing 
to  make  your  mother  happy;  she  was  cut  oil  from 
6  81 


KING  MIDAS 

everything  she  had  been  used  to, — she  could  not 
even  keep  a  carriage.  And  of  course  she  could  not 
receive  her  old  friends,  very  few  of  them  cared  to 
have  anything  more  to  do  with  her,  and  so  she 
simply  pined  away  in  discontentment  and  miserable 
poverty.  You  have  had  an  easy  life,  Helen,  and 
you  have  no  idea  of  what  a  horrible  thing  it  is  to 
be  poor;  you  have  had  the  best  of  teachers,  and  you 
have  lived  at  an  expensive  school,  and  of  course 
you  have  always  had  me  to  rely  upon  to  introduce 
you  to  the  right  people;  but  if  you  married  a  poor 
man  you  couldn't  expect  to  keep  any  of  those  ad 
vantages.  I  don't  speak  of  your  marrying  a  man 
who  had  no  money  at  all,  for  that  would  be  too 
fearful  to  talk  about;  but  suppose  you  were  to  take 
any  one  of  the  young  men  you  might  meet  at  Oak- 
dale  even,  you'd  have  to  live  in  a  mean  little  house, 
and  do  with  one  or  two  servants,  and  worry  your 
self  about  the  butcher's  bills  and  brush  your  own 
dresses  and  drive  your  own  horse.  And  how  long 
do  you  suppose  it  would  be  before  you  repented  of 
that?  Think  of  having  to  be  like  those  poor 
Masons,  for  instance;  they  are  nice  people,  and  I 
like  them,  but  I  hate  to  go  there,  for  every  time  I 
can't  help  seeing  that  the  parlor  furniture  is  more 
dingy,  and  thinking  how  miserable  they  must  be, 
not  to  be  able  to  buy  new7  things.  And  their  serv 
ants'  liveries  are  half  worn  too;  and  when  you  dine 
there  you  see  that  Mrs.  Mason  is  eating  with  a 
plated  fork,  because  she  has  not  enough  of  her  best 
silver  to  go  around.  All  those  things  are  trifles, 
Helen,  but  think  of  the  worry  they  must  give  those 
poor  people,  who  are  pinching  themselves  and  wear- 

82 


KING  MIDAS 

ing  themselves  out  soul  and  body,  trying  to  keep 
in  the  station  where  they  belong,  or  used  to.  Poor 
Mrs.  Mason  is  pale  and  nervous  and  wrinkled  at 
forty,  and  those  three  poor  girls,  who  spend  their 
time  making  over  their  old  dresses,  are  so  dowdy- 
looking  and  uneasy  that  no  man  ever  glances  at 
them  twice.  It  is  such  misery  as  that  which  I  dread 
for  you,  Helen,  and  why  I  am  talking  to  you.  There 
is  no  reason  why  you  should  take  upon  you  such 
sorrows;  you  have  a  clear  head,  and  you  can  think 
for  yourself  and  make  up  your  mind  about  things 
if  you  only  won't  blind  yourself  by  foolish  senti 
mentality.  You  have  been  brought  up  to  a  certain 
station  in  life,  and  no  man  has  a  right  to  offer  him 
self  to  you  unless  he  can  maintain  you  in  that  sta 
tion.  There  is  really  no  scarcity  of  such  men,  Helen, 
and  you'd  have  no  trouble  in  finding  one.  There  are 
hundreds  of  men  in  New  York  who  are  worth  mil 
lions,  and  who  would  fling  themselves  and  their 
wealth  at  your  feet  if  you  would  have  them.  And 
you  would  find  such  a  difference  between  the  oppor 
tunities  of  pleasure  and  command  that  such  n 
chance  would  give  you  and  the  narrow  life  that  you 
lead  in  this  little  town  that  you  would  wonder  how 
you  could  ever  have  been  satisfied.  It  is  difficult 
for  you  to  realize  what  I  mean,  my  dear,  because 
you  have  only  a  schoolgirl's  knowledge  of  life  and 
its  pleasures,  but  when  you  are  in  the  world,  and 
have  learned  what  power  is,  and  what  it  means  to 
possess  such  beauty  as  yours,  you  will  feel  your 
heart  swelling  with  a  new  pleasure,  and  you  will 
thank  me  for  what  I  tell  you.  I  have  figured  a 
wonderful  triumph  for  you,  Helen,  and  it  is  time 

83 


KING  MIDAS 

you  knew  what  is  before  you.  Of  what  use  is  your 
beauty,  if  you  do  not  carry  it  into  a  wide  enough 
sphere,  where  it  can  bring  you  the  admiration  and 
homage  you  deserve?  You  need  such  a  field,  Helen, 
to  discover  your  own  powers  in;  believe  me,  my 
dear,  there  is  really  a  higher  ambition  in  the  world 
than  to  be  a  country  clergyman's  daughter." 

"Is  there  any  higher  than  being  happy,  Auntie?" 
asked  Helen. 

The  importance  of  that  observation  was  beyond 
the  other's  ken,  as  indeed  it  was  beyond  Helen's 
also;  she  had  thrown  it  out  as  a  chance  remark. 

"Mr.  Roberts  and  I  were  talking  about  this  last 
night,"  went  on  Aunt  Polly,  "and  he  told  me  that  I 
ought  to  talk  seriously  to  you  about  it,  and  get 
you  to  realize  what  a  golden  future  is  before  you. 
For  it  is  really  true,  Helen,  as  sure  as  you  can 
trust  what  I  know  about  the  world,  that  you  can 
have  absolutely  anything  that  you  want.  That 
is  the  long  and  short  of  the  matter — anything  that 
you  want!  And  why  should  you  not  have  the  very 
best  that  life  can  give  you?  Why  should  you  have 
to  know  that  other  people  dwell  in  finer  houses 
than  yours,  and  are  free  from  cares  that  make  you 
ill?  Why  should  you  have  the  humiliation  of  being 
looked  down  upon  and  scorned  by  other  people? 
Are  these  other  people  more  entitled  to  luxury  than 
you,  or  more  able  to  enjoy  it;  or  could  anyone  do  it 
more  honor  than  you?  You  are  beautiful  beyond 
telling;  you  have  every  gift  that  a  woman  can  ask 
to  complete  enjoyment  of  life;  you  are  perfect, 
Helen,  you  are  really  perfect!  You  must  know  that; 
you  must  say  it  to  yourself  when  you  are  alone, 

84 


KING  MIDAS 

and  know  lhat  your  life  ought  to  be  a  queenly 
triumph.  You  have  only  to  stretch  out  your  arms 
and  everything  will  come  to  you;  and  there  is  really 
and  truly  no  end  to  the  happiness  you  can  taste." 

Helen  was  gazing  at  the  other  with  real  earnest 
ness,  and  the  words  were  sinking  deep  into  her  soul, 
deeper  than  words  generally  sunk  there.  She  felt 
her  cheeks  burning,  and  her  frame  stirred  by  a 
new  emotion;  she  had  seldom  before  thought  of 
anything  but  the  happiness  of  the  hour. 

"Just  think  of  it,  my  love,"  continued  Mrs.  Rob 
erts,  "and  know  that  that  is  what  your  old  auntie 
was  thinking  of  when  you  were  only  a  little  tiny 
girl,  sitting  upon  her  knee,  and  when  you  were  so 
beautiful  that  artists  used  to  beg  to  have  you  pose 
for  them.  I  never  said  anything  about  it  then,  be 
cause  you  were  too  young  to  understand  these 
things;  but  now  that  you  are  to  manage  yourself, 
I  have  been  waiting  for  a  chance  to  tell  you,  so  that 
you  may  see  what  a  prize  is  yours  if  you  are  only 
wise.  And  if  you  wonder  why  I  have  cared  so  much 
and  thought  so  much  of  what  might  be  yours,  the 
only  reason  I  can  give  is  that  you  are  my  niece,  and 
that  I  felt  that  any  triumph  you  might  win  would 
be  mine.  I  want  you  to  win  a  higher  place  in  the 
world  than  mine,  Helen;  I  never  had  such  a  gift  as 
yours." 

Helen  was  silent  for  a  minute,  deeply  thoughtful. 

"Tell  me,  Auntie,"  she  asked,  "and  is  it  really 
true,  then,  that  a  woman  is  to  train  herself  and 
grow  beautiful  and  to  have  so  much  trouble  and 
money  spent  upon  her — only  for  her  marriage?" 

"Why  of  course,  Helen;  what  else  can  a  woman 

85 


KING  MIDAS 

do?  Unless  you  have  money  and  a  husband  you 
cannot  possibly  hope  to  accomplish  anything  in  so 
ciety.  With  your  talents  and  your  beauty  you 
might  go  anywhere  and  rule  anywhere,  but  you 
have  to  have  money  before  you  can  even  begin." 

"But  where  am  I  to  meet  such  a  rich  man,  Aunt 
Polly?"  asked  Helen. 

"You  know  perfectly  well  where.  Do  you  sup 
pose  that  after  I  have  worried  myself  about  you  all 
this  time  I  mean  to  desert  you  now,  when  you  are 
at  the  very  climax  of  your  glory,  when  you  are  all 
that  I  ever  dared  dream  of?  My  dear  Helen,  I  am 
more  interested  in  you  just  now  than  in  anything 
else  in  the  world.  I  feel  as  a  card  player  feels 
when  millions  are  at  stake,  and  when  he  knows  that 
he  holds  the  perfect  hand." 

"That  is  very  nice,"  said  Helen,  laughing  nerv 
ously.  "But  there  is  always  a  chance  of  mistake." 

"There  is  none  this  time,  Helen,  for  I  am  an  old 
player,  and  I  have  been  picking  and  arranging  my 
hand  for  long,  long  years;  and  you  are  the  hand, 
my  love,  and  the  greatest  glory  of  it  all  must  be 
yours." 

Helen's  heart  was  throbbing  still  faster  with  ex 
citement,  as  if  she  were  already  tasting  the  wonder 
ful  triumph  that  was  before  her;  her  aunt  was 
watching  her  closely,  noting  how  the  blood  was 
mounting  to  her  bright  cheeks.  The  girl  felt  her 
self  suddenly  choking  with  her  pent  up  excitement, 
and  she  stretched  out  her  arms  with  a  strange 
laugh. 

"Auntie,"  she  said,  "you  tell  me  too  much  at 
once." 

86 


KING  MIDAS 

The  other  had  been  marshaling  her  forces  like  a 
general  during  the  last  few  minutes,  and  she  felt 
just  then  as  if  there  were  nothing  left  but  the  rout. 
"All  that  I  tell  you,  you  may  see  for  yourself,"  she 
said.  "I  don't  ask  you  to  take  anything  on  my 
word,  for  you  have  only  to  look  in  the  glass  and 
compare  yourself  with  the  women  you  meet.  You 
will  find  that  all  men  will  turn  their  eyes  upon  you 
when  you  enter  a  room." 

Helen  did  not  consider  it  necessary  to  debate  that 
question.  "You  have  invited  some  rich  man  to  meet 
me  at  your  house?"  she  asked. 

"I  was  going  to  say  nothing  to  you  about  it  at 
first,"  said  the  other,  "and  let  you  find  out.  But  I 
thought  afterwards  that  it  would  be  better  to  tell 
you,  so  that  you  could  manage  for  yourself.  I  have 
invited  all  the  men  whom  Mr.  Roberts  and  I  thought 
it  would  be  best  for  you  to  meet." 

Helen  gazed  at  her  aunt  silently  for  a  moment, 
and  then  she  broke  into  a  nervous  laugh.  "A  regu 
lar  exposition!"  she  said;  "and  you'll  bring  them 
out  one  by  one  and  put  them  through  their  paces, 
won't  you,  Auntie?  And  have  them  labeled  for 
comparison, — so  that  I  can  tell  just  what  stocks 
they  own  and  how  they  stand  on  the  'Street'!  Do 
you  remember  the  suitor  in  Moliere? — Vai  quinzc 
mille  livres  de  rente;  fai  le  corps  sain;  j'ai  des  beaux 
dentsr  " 

It  was  a  flash  of  Helen's  old  merriment,  but  it 
did  not  seem  so  natural  as  usual,  even  to  her.  She 
forced  herself  to  laugh,  for  she  was  growing  more 
and  more  excited  and  uneasy. 

87 


KING  MIDAS 

"My  dear,"  said  Aunt  Polly,  "please  do  not  begin 
making  fun  again." 

"But  you  must  let  me  joke  a  little,  Auntie,"  said 
the  girl.  "I  have  never  been  serious  for  so  long 
before." 

"You  ought  to  be  serious  about  it,  my  dear." 

"I  will,"  said  Helen.  "I  have  really  listened  at 
tentively;  you  must  tell  me  all  about  these  rich 
men  that  I  am  to  meet,  and  what  I  am  to  do.  I 
hope  I  am  not  the  only  girl." 

"Of  course  not,''  was  the  response;  "I  would  not 
do  anything  ridiculous.  I  have  invited  a  number 
of  other  girls — but  they  won't  trouble  you  in  the 
least." 

"No,"  said  Helen.  "I  am  not  afraid  of  other  girls; 
but  what's  to  be  done?  It's  a  sort  of  house-warm 
ing,  I  suppose?'' 

"Yes,"  was  the  reply,  "I  suppose  so,  for  I  only 
came  down  last  week  myself.  I  have  asked  about 
twenty  people  for  a  week  or  two;  they  all  know 
each  other,  more  or  less,  so  there  won't  be  much 
formality.  We  shall  amuse  ourselves  with  coach 
ing  and  golf,  and  anything  else  we  please;  and  of 
course  there  will  be  plenty  of  music  in  the  evening." 

Helen  smiled  at  the  significant  tone  of  her  aunt's 
voice.  "Are  the  people  there  now?''  she  asked. 

"Those  who  live  anywhere  in  the  neighborhood 
are;  most  of  the  men  will  be  down  on  the  afternoon 
train,  in  time  for  dinner." 

"And  tell  me  who  are  the  men,  Auntie?" 

"I'm  afraid  I  won't  have  time,"  said  Mrs.  Eobertsf 
glancing  out  of  the  carriage.  "We  are  too  near 

88 


KING  MIDAS 

home.  But  I  will  tell  you  about  one  of  them,  if  you 
like." 

"The  king-bee?"  laughed  Helen.  "Is  there  a  king- 
bee?" 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Roberts;  "there  is.  At  any  rate, 
my  husband  and  I  think  he  is,  and  we  are  anxious 
to  see  what  you  think.  His  name  is  Gerald  Harri 
son,  and  he  comes  from  Cincinnati.'' 

"Oh,  dear,"  said  Helen,  "I  hate  to  meet  men  from 
the  West.  He  must  be  a  pork-packer,  or  something 
horrible." 

"No,"  said  the  other,  "he  is  a  railroad  president." 

"And  why  do  you  think  he's  the  king-bee;  is  he 
very  rich?" 

"He  is  worth  about  ten  million  dollars,"  said 
Aunt  Polly. 

Helen  gazed  at  her  wildly.  "Ten  million  dollars!" 
she  gasped. 

"Yes,"  said  the  other;  "about  that,  probably  a 
little  more.  Mr.  Roberts  knows  all  about  his 
affairs." 

Helen  was  staring  into  her  aunt's  face.  "Tell 
me,"  she  asked,  very  nervously  indeed.  "Tell  me, 
honestly!" 

"What?" 

"Is  that  the  man  you  are  bringing  me  here  to 
meet?" 

"Yes,  Helen,"  said  the  other  quietly. 

The  girl's  hands  were  clasped  tightly  together 
just  then.  "Aunt  Polly,"  she  asked,  "what  kind  of 
a  man  is  he?  I  will  not  marry  a  bad  man!" 

"A  bad  man,  child?  How  ridiculous!  Do  you 
suppose  I  would  ask  you  to  marry  a  bad  man,  if  he 

89 


KING  MIDAS 

owned  all  New  York?  I  want  you  to  be  happy.  Mr. 
Harrison  is  a  man  who  has  made  his  own  fortune, 
and  he  is  a  man  of  tremendous  energy.  Everyone 
is  obliged  to  respect  him." 

"But  he  must  be  old,  Auntie." 

"He  is  very  young,  Helen,  only  about  forty." 

"Dear  me,"  said  the  girl,  "I  could  never  marry 
a  man  as  old  as  forty;  and  then,  I'd  have  to  go  out 
West!" 

"Mr.  Harrison  has  come  to  New  York  to  live," 
was  the  other's  reply.  "He  has  just  bought  a  really 
magnificent  country  seat  about  ten  miles  from  here 
— the  old  Everson  place,  if  you  remember  it;  and  he 
is  negotiating  for  a  house  near  ours  in  the  city. 
My  husband  and  I  both  agreed,  Helen,  that  if  you 
could  make  Mr.  Harrison  fall  in  love  with  you  it 
would  be  all  that  we  could  desire." 

"That  is  not  the  real  problem,"  Helen  said,  gazing 
out  of  the  carriage  with  a  frightened  look  upon  her 
face;  "it  is  whether  I  can  fall  in  love  with  him. 
Aunt  Polly,  it  is  dreadful  to  me  to  think  of  marry 
ing;  I  don't  want  to  marry!  I  don't  care  who  the 
man  is!" 

"We'll  see  about  that  later  on,"  said  the  other, 
smiling  reassuringly,  and  at  the  same  time  putting 
her  arm  about  the  girl ;  "there  is  no  hurry,  my  love, 
and  no  one  has  the  least  thought  of  asking  you  to 
do  what  you  do  not  want  to  do.  But  a  chance  like 
this  does  not  come  often  to  any  girl,  my  dear.  Mr. 
Harrison  is  in  every  way  a  desirable  man." 

"But  he's  stupid,  Aunt  Polly,  I  know  he's  stupid! 
All  self-made  men  are;  they  tell  you  about  how  they 


KING  MIDAS 

made  themselves,  and  what  wonderful  things  they 
have  made!" 

k'You  must  of  course  not  expect  to  find  Mr.  Har 
rison  as  cultured  as  yourself,  Helen,"  was  the  reply; 
"his  education  has  been  that  of  the  world,  and  not 
of  books.  But  nobody  thinks  less  of  a  man  for  that 
in  the  world;  the  most  one  can  ask  is  that  he  does 
not  make  pretenses.  And  he  is  very  far  from 
stupid,  I  assure  you,  or  he  would  not  have  been 
what  he  is." 

"I  suppose  not,"  said  Helen,  weakly. 

"And,  besides,"  observed  Aunt  Polly,  laughing  to 
cheer  the  girl  up,  "I  assure  you  it  doesn't  make  any 
difference.  My  husband  makes  no  pretense  to  be 
ing  a  wit,  or  a  musician,  or  anything  like  that;  he's 
just  a  plain,  sensible  man,  but  we  get  along  as 
happily  as  you  could  wish.  We  each  of  us  go  our 
own  way,  and  understand  each  other  perfectly." 

"So  I'm  to  marry  a  plain,  sensible  man?"  asked 
the  girl,  apparently  not  much  comforted  by  the 
observation. 

"A  plain,  sensible  man  with  ten  million  dollars, 
my  dear,"  said  Aunt  Polly,  "who  adores  you  and 
has  nothing  to  do  with  his  money  but  to  let  you 
make  yourself  happy  and  glorious  with  it?  But 
don't  worry  yourself,  my  child,  because  the  first 
thing  for  you  to  feel  is  that  if  you  don't  like  him 
you  need  not  take  him.  It  all  rests  upon  you;  he 
won't  be  here  till  after  the  rest,  till  the  evening 
train,  so  you  can  have  time  to  think  it  over  and 
calculate  whether  ten  million  dollars  will  buy  any 
thing  you  want."  And  Mrs.  Roberts  laughed. 

Then  the  carriage  having  passed  within  the  gates 

91 


KING  MIDAS 

of  her  home,  she  kissed  the  girl  upon  her  cheek. 
"By  the  way,"  she  added,  "if  you  want  to  meet  a 
romantic  person  to  offset  Mr.  Harrison,  I'll  tell  you 
about  Mr.  Howard.  I  haven't  mentioned  him, 
have  I?" 

"I  never  heard  of  him/'  said  Helen. 

"It's  a  real  romance,"  said  the  other.  "You 
didn't  suppose  that  your  sensible  old  auntie  could 
have  a  romance,  did  you?" 

"Tell  me  about  it,"  laughed  Helen. 

The  carriage  was  driving  up  the  broad  avenue 
that  led  to  the  Roberts  house;  it  was  a  drive  of  a 
minute  or  two,  however,  and  so  Aunt  Polly  had 
time  for  a  hasty  explanation. 

"It  was  over  twenty  years  ago,"  she  said,  "before 
your  mother  was  married,  and  when  our  family  had 
a  camp  up  in  the  Adirondacks;  there  were  only  two 
others  near  us,  and  in  each  of  them  there  was  a 
young  man  about  my  age.  We  three  were  great 
friends  for  three  or  four  years,  but  we've  never 
seen  each  other  since  till  a  short  while  ago." 

"And  one  of  them  is  this  man?" 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Roberts;  "his  name  is  David 
Howard;  I  met  him  quite  by  accident  the  other  day, 
and  recognized  him.  He  lives  all  alone,  in  the 
winter  in  New  York  somewheres,  and  in  the  sum 
mer  up  at  the  same  place  in  the  mountains;  he's  the 
most  romantic  man  you  ever  met,  and  I  know  you'll 
find  him  interesting.  He's  a  poet,  I  fancy,  or  a 
musician  at  any  rate,  and  he's  a  very  great  scholar." 

"Is  he  rich  too?"  asked  the  girl,  laughing. 

"I  fancy  not,"  was  the  reply,  "but  I  can't  tell; 
he  lives  very  plainly." 

92 


KING  MIDAS 

"Aren't  you  afraid  I'll  fall  in  love  with  him, 
Auntie?" 

"No,"  said  the  other,  smiling  to  herself;  "I'm  not 
worrying  about  that." 

"Why  not?" 

"Wait  till  you  see  him,  my  dear,"  was  the  reply; 
"if  you  choose  him  for  a  husband  I'll  give  my  con 
sent." 

"That  sounds  mysterious,"  observed  the  girl, 
gazing  at  her  aunt;  "tell  me,  is  he  here  now?" 

"Yes,"  said  Aunt  Polly;  .^he's  been  here  a  day  or 
two;  but  I  don't  think  you'll  see  him  at  dinner,  be 
cause  he  has  been  feeling  unwell  to-day;  he  may 
be  down  a  while  this  evening,  for  I've  been  telling 
him  about  you,  and  he's  anxious  to  see  you.  You 
must  be  nice  to  him,  Helen,  and  try  to  feel  as  sorry 
for  him  as  I  do." 

"Sorry  for  him?"  echoed  the  girl  with  a  start. 

"Yes,  my  dear,  he  is  an  invalid,  with  some  very 
dreadful  affliction." 

And  Helen  stared  at  her  aunt.  "An  affliction!" 
she  cried.  "Aunt  Polly,  that  is  horrible!  What  in 
the  world  did  you  invite  an  invalid  for  at  this  time, 
with  all  the  other  people?  I  hate  invalids!" 

"I  had  asked  him  before,"  was  the  apologetic 
reply,  "and  so  I  couldn't  help  it.  I  had  great  diffi 
culty  in  getting  him  to  promise  to  come  anyway, 
for  he's  a  very  strange,  solitary  man.  But  I  wanted 
to  have  my  little  romance,  and  renew  our  acquaint 
ance,  and  this  was  the  only  time  the  third  party 
could  come." 

"Oh,  the  third  one  is  here  too?" 

"He  will  be  in  a  day  or  two." 

93 


KING  MIDAS 

"Who  is  he?" 

"His  name  is  Lieutenant  Maynard,  and  he's  in  the 
navy;  he's  stationed  at  Brooklyn  just  now,  but  he 
expects  to  get  leave  for  a  while." 

"That  is  a  little  better,"  Helen  remarked,  as  the 
carriage  was  drawing  up  in  front  of  the  great 
house.  "I'd  marry  a  naval  officer." 

"No,"  laughed  Aunt  Polly;  "he  leaves  a  wife  and 
some  children  in  Brooklyn.  We  three  are  going  to 
keep  to  ourselves  and  talk  about  old  times  and  what 
has  happened  to  us  since  then,  and  so  you  young 
folks  will  not  be  troubled  by  us." 

"I  hope  you  will,"  said  the  other,  "for  I  can't 
ever  be  happy  with  invalids.'' 

And  there,  as  the  carriage  door  was  opened,  the 
conversation  ended  abruptly.  When  Helen  had 
sprung  out  she  found  that  there  were  six  or  eight 
people  upon  the  piazza,  to  whom  the  excitement  of 
being  introduced  drove  from  her  mind  for  a  time 
all  thoughts  which  her  aunt's  words  had  brought. 


-4-J-.E 


94 


CHAPTER  V 

"If  chance  will  have  me  king,  why  chance  may  crown  me, 
Without  my  stir." 

MOST  of  the  people  whom  Helen  met  upon  her  ar 
rival  were  of  her  own  sex,  so  that  she  did  not  feel 
called  upon  to  make  special  exertions  to  please 
them;  but  she  was  naturally  cheerful  and  happy 
with  everyone,  and  the  other  matters  of  which  Mrs. 
Roberts  had  talked  took  on  such  vast  proportions 
before  her  mind  that  it  was  a  relief  to  her  to  put 
them  aside  and  enjoy  herself  for  a  while  in  her 
usual  way.  Helen  was  glad  that  most  of  the  men 
were  to  arrive  later,  so  that  she  might  make  her 
appearance  before  them  under  the  most  favorable 
circumstances.  When  she  heard  the  distant  whistle 
of  the  afternoon  train  a  couple  of  hours  later,  it 
was  with  that  thought  that  she  retired  to  her  room 
to  rest  before  dressing. 

Aunt  Polly,  following  her  plan  of  accustoming 
the  girl  to  a  proper  style  of  living,  had  engaged 
a  maid  to  attend  her  during  her  stay;  and  Helen 
found  therefore  that  her  trunks  were  unpacked  and 
everything  in  order.  It  was  a  great  relief  to  her  to 
be  rid  of  all  care,  and  she  took  off  her  dress  and 
flung  herself  down  upon  the  bed  to  think. 

Helen  had  imbided  during  her  Sunday-school  days 
the  usual  formulas  of  dogmatic  religion,  but  upon 

95 


KING  MIDAS 

matters  of  morality  her  ideas  were  of  the  vaguest 
possible  description.  The  guide  of  her  life  had 
always  been  her  instinct  for  happiness,  her  "genial 
sense  of  youth."  She  had  never  formulated  any 
rule  of  life  to  herself,  but  that  which  she  sought 
was  joy,  primarily  for  herself,  and  incidentally  for 
other  people,  because  unhappy  people  were  disturb 
ing  (unless  it  were  possible  to  avoid  them).  In  de 
bating  within  herself  the  arguments  which  her  aunt 
had  brought  before  her  mind,  it  was  that  principle 
chiefly  by  which  she  tested  them. 

To  the  girl's  eager  nature,  keenly  sensitive  to 
pleasure  and  greedy  for  it,  the  prospect  so  suddenly 
flung  wide  before  her  eyes  was  so  intoxicating  that 
again  and  again  as  she  thought  of  it  it  made  her 
tremble  and  burn.  So  far  as  Helen  could  see  at  that 
moment,  a  marriage  with  this  Mr.  Harrison  would 
mean  the  command  of  every  source  of  happiness; 
and  upon  a  scale  so  magnificent,  so  belittling  of 
everything  she  had  known  before,  that  she  shrank 
from  it  as  something  impossible  and  unnatural. 
Again  and  again  she  buried  her  heated  brow  in  her 
hands  and  muttered:  "I  ought  to  have  known  it 
before!  I  ought  to  have  had  time  to  realize  it." 

That  which  restrained  the  girl  from  welcoming 
such  an  opportunity,  from  clasping  it  to  her  in 
ecstasy  and  flinging  herself  madly  into  the  whirl 
of  pleasure  it  held  out,  was  not  so  much  her  con 
science  and  the  ideals  which  she  had  formed  more 
or  less  vaguely  from  the  novels  and  poems  she  had 
read,  as  the  instinct  of  her  maidenhood,  which 
made  her  shrink  from  the  thought  of  marriage  with 
a  man  whom  she  did  not  love.  So  strong  was  this 


KIXG  MIDAS 

feeling  in  her  that  at  first  she  felt  that  she  could 
not  even  bear  to  be  introduced  to  him  with  such  an 
idea  in  her  mind. 

It  was  Aunt  Polly's  wisdom  and  diplomacy  which 
finally  overcame  her  scruples  enough  to  persuade 
her  to  that  first  step;  Helen  kept  thinking  of  her 
aunt's  words — that  no  one  wanted  to  compel  her  to 
marry  the  man,  that  she  might  do  just  as  she  chose. 
She  argued  that  it  was  foolish  to  worry  herself,  or 
to  be  ill  at  ease.  She  might  see  what  sort  of  a  man 
he  was;  if  he  fell  in  love  with  her  it  would  do  no 
harm, — Helen  was  not  long  in  discovering  by  the 
increased  pace  of  her  pulses  that  she  would  find  it 
exciting  to  have  everyone  know  that  a  multi-mil 
lionaire  was  in  love  with  her.  "As  for  the  rest," 
she  said  to  herself,  "we'll  see  when  the  time  comes," 
and  knew  not  that  one  who  goes  to  front  his  life's 
temptation  with  that  resolution  is  a  mariner  who 
leaves  the  steering  of  his  vessel  to  the  tempest. 

She  had  stilled  her  objection  by  such  arguments, 
and  was  just  beginning  to  feel  the  excitement  of  the 
prospect  once  more,  when  the  maid  knocked  at  the 
door  and  asked  to  know  if  mademoiselle  were  ready 
to  dress  for  dinner.  And  mademoiselle  arose  and 
bathed  her  face  and  arms  and  was  once  more  her 
old  refreshed  and  rejoicing  self,  ready  for  that 
mysterious  and  wonderful  process  which  was  to 
send  her  out  an  hour  or  two  later  a  vision  of  perfe.-t 
ness,  compounded  of  the  hues  of  the  rose  and  the 
odors  of  evening,  with  the  new  and  unutterable 
magic  that  is  all  the  woman's  own.  Besides  the 
prospects  her  aunt  had  spoken  of,  there  were  reasons 
enough  why  Helen  should  be  radiant,  for  it  was  her 

7  97 


KING  MIDAS 

first  recognized  appearance  in  high  society;  ana  so 
she  sat  in  front  of  the  tall  mirror  and  criticised 
every  detail  of  the  coiffure  which  the  maid  pre 
pared,  and  eyed  by  turns  her  gleaming  neck  and 
shoulders  and  the  wonderful  dress,  as  yet  unworn, 
which  shone  from  the  bed  through  its  covering  of 
tissue  paper;  and  was  all  the  time  so  filled  with 
joy  and  delight  that  it  was  a  pleasure  to  be  near 
her.  Soon  Aunt  Polly,  clad  in  plain  black  as  a  sign 
that  she  retired  in  favor  of  Helen,  came  in  to  assist 
and  superintend  the  toilet.  So  serious  at  the  task, 
and  so  filled  with  a  sense  of  its  importance  and  the 
issues  that  were  staked  upon  it  was  she  and  the 
maid  also,  that  one  would  not  dare  think  of  the 
humor  of  the  situation  if  Helen  herself  had  not 
broken  the  spell  by  declaring  that  she  felt  like  an 
Ashantee  warrior  being  decked  out  for  battle  with 
plumes  and  war  paint,  or  like  Kinaldo,  or  Amadis 
donning  his  armor. 

And  Helen  was  in  fact  going  to  war,  a  war  for 
which  nature  has  been  training  woman  since  the 
first  fig-tree  grew.  She  carried  a  bow  strong  as  the 
one  of  Ulysses,  which  no  man  could  draw,  and  an 
arrow  sharp  as  the  sunbeam  and  armed  with  a 
barb;  for  a  helmet,  beside  her  treasure  of  golden 
hair,  she  wore  one  rose,  set  there  with  the  art  that 
conceals  art,  so  that  it  was  no  longer  a  red  rose, 
but  one  more  bright  perfection  that  had  come  to 
ripeness  about  the  glowing  maiden.  Her  dress  was 
of  the  same  color,  a  color  which  when  worn  upon 
a  woman  is  a  challenge,  crying  abroad  that  here  is 
perfection  beyond  envy  and  beyond  praise. 

When   the  last  touch   was   finished   and   Helen 

98 


KING  MIDAS 

upon  herself,  with  her  bare  shoulders  and 
arms  and  her  throat  so  soft  and  white,  she  knew 
that  she  was,  compared  to  all  about  her,  a  vision 
from  another  world.  Chiefest  of  all,  she  knew  that 
neither  arms  and  shoulders,  nor  robe,  nor  gleaming 
hair,  would  ever  be  thought  of  when  once  the  face 
that  smiled  upon  her  with  its  serene  perfectness 
had  caught  the  eye;  she  knew  that  as  usual,  men 
must  start  when  they  saw  her,  and  never  take  their 
eyes  from  her.  The  thought  filled  her  with  an 
exulting  consciousness  of  power,  and  reared  her 
form  with  a  new  dignity,  and  made  her  chest  heave 
and  her  cheeks  burn  with  yet  a  new  beauty. 

When  everything  was  ready,  Aunt  Polly's  hus 
band  was  called  in  to  gaze  upon  her.  A  little  man 
was  Aunt  Polly's  husband,  with  black  side  whiskers 
and  a  head  partly  bald;  a  most  quiet  and  unob 
trusive  person,  looking  just  what  he  had  been  rep 
resented, — a  "plain,  sensible  man,"  who  attended 
to  his  half  of  the  family  affairs,  and  left  the  other 
half  to  his  wife.  He  gazed  upon  Helen  and  blinked 
once  or  twice,  as  if  blinded  by  so  much  beauty,  and 
then  took  the  end  of  her  fingers  very  lightly  in  his 
and  pronounced  her  "absolutely  perfect."  "And, 
my  dear,"  he  added,  "it's  after  seven,  so  perhaps 
we'd  best  descend." 

So  he  led  the  girl  down  to  her  triumph,  to  the 
handsome  parlors  of  the  house  where  eight  or  ten 
men  were  strolling  about.  It  was  quite  exciting  to 
Helen  to  meet  them,  for  they  were  all  strangers, 
and  Aunt  Polly  had  apparently  considered  Mr.  Har 
rison  of  so  much  importance  that  she  had  said 


99 


KING  MIDAS 

nothing  about  the  others,  leaving  her  niece  at  lib 
erty  to  make  what  speculations  she  pleased. 

It  was  a  brilliant  company  which  was  seated  in 
the  dining  room  a  short  while  later.  As  it  was  as 
sembled  in  Helen's  honor,  Aunt  Polly  had  taken 
care  to  bring  those  who  would  please  the  girl,  and 
represent  high  life  and  luxury  at  its  best;  all  of 
the  guests  were  young,  and  therefore  perfect.  The 
members  of  the  "smart  set,"  when  they  have  passed 
the  third  decade,  are  apt  to  show  signs  of  weariness; 
a  little  of  their  beauty  and  health  is  gone,  and  some 
of  their  animation,  and  all  of  their  joy, — so  that 
one  may  be  led  to  ask  himself  if  there  be  not  really 
something  wrong  about  their  views  and  ways  of 
living.  When  they  are  young,  however,  they  repre 
sent  the  possibilities  of  the  human  animal  in  all 
things  external.  In  some  wonderful  way  known 
only  to  themselves  they  have  managed  to  manipu 
late  the  laws  of  men  so  as  to  make  men  do  for  them 
all  the  hard  and  painful  tasks  of  life,  so  that  they 
have  no  care  but  to  make  themselves  as  beautiful 
and  as  clever  and  as  generally  excellent  as  selfish 
ness  can  be.  Helen,  of  course,  was  not  in  the  least 
troubled  about  the  selfishness,  and  she  was  quite 
satisfied  with  externals.  She  saw  about  her  perfect 
toilets  and  perfect  manners;  she  saw  everyone  as 
happy  as  she  liked  everyone  to  be;  and  the  result 
was  that  her  spirits  took  fire,  and  she  was  clever 
and  fascinating  beyond  even  herself.  She  carried 
everything  before  her,  and  performed  the  real  feat 
of  dominating  the  table  by  her  beauty  and  clever 
ness,  without  being  either  presumptuous  or  vain. 
Aunt  Polly  replied  to  the  delighted  looks  of  her 

100 


KING  MIDAS 

husband  at  the  other  end  of  the  table,  and  the  two 
only  wished  that  Mr.  Harrison  had  been  there  then. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  Helen  had  forgotten  Mr. 
Harrison  entirely,  and  he  did  not  come  back  to  her 
mind  until  the  dinner  was  almost  over,  when  sud 
denly  she  heard  the  bell  ring.  It  was  just  the  time 
that  he  was  due  to  arrive,  and  so  she  knew  that  she 
would  see  him  in  another  half  hour.  In  the  exulta 
tion  of  the  present  moment  all  of  her  hesitation  was 
gone,  and  she  was  as  ready  to  meet  him  as  her  aunt 
could  have  wished. 

When  the  party  rose  a  few  minutes  later  and 
went  into  the  parlors  again,  Helen  was  the  first  to 
enter,  upon  the  arm  of  her  neighbor.  She  was  think 
ing  of  Mr.  Harrison;  and  as  she  glanced  about  her, 
she  could  not  keep  from  giving  a  slight  start.  Far 
down  at  the  other  end  of  the  room  she  had  caught 
sight  of  the  figure  of  a  man,  and  her  first  thought 
had  been  that  it  must  be  the  millionaire.  His  frail, 
slender  form  was  more  than  half  concealed  by  the 
cushions  of  the  sofa  upon  which  he  was  seated,  but 
even  so,  Helen  could  discover  that  he  was  a  slight 
cripple. 

The  man  rose  as  the  party  entered,  and  Aunt 
Polly  went  towards  him;  she  apparently  expected 
her  niece  to  follow  and  be  introduced  to  the 
stranger,  but  in  the  meantime  the  truth  had  oc 
curred  to  Helen,  that  it  must  be  the  Mr.  Howard 
she  had  been  told  of;  she  turned  to  one  side  with 
her  partner,  and  began  remarking  the  pictures  in 
the  room. 

When  she  found  opportunity,  she  glanced  over 
and  saw  that  the  man  had  seated  himself  on  the 

101 


KING  MIDAS 

sofa  and  was  talking  to  Mrs.  Roberts.  He  looked, 
as  Helen  thought,  all  the  invalid  her  aunt  had  de 
scribed  him  to  be,  for  his  face  was  white  and  very 
wan,  so  that  it  made  her  shudder.  "Dear  me!"  she 
exclaimed  to  herself,  "I  don't  think  such  a  man 
ought  to  go  into  public."  And  she  turned  reso 
lutely  away,  and  set  herself  to  the  task  of  forget 
ting  him,  which  she  very  easily  did. 

A  merry  party  was  soon  gathered  about  her,  re 
joicing  in  the  glory  of  her  presence,  and  listening  to 
the  stories  which  she  told  of  her  adventures  in 
Europe.  Helen  kept  the  circle  well  in  hand  that 
way,  and  was  equally  ready  when  one  of  the  young 
ladies  turned  the  conversation  off  upon  French 
poetry  in  the  hope  of  eclipsing  her.  Thus  her  ani 
mation  continued  without  rest  until  Mrs.  Roberts 
escorted  one  of  the  guests  to  the  piano  to  sing  for 
them. 

"She's  keeping  me  for  Mr.  Harrison,"  thought 
Helen,  laughing  mischievously  to  herself;  "and  I 
suppose  she's  picked  out  the  worst  musician  first, 
so  as  to  build  up  a  climax." 

It  seemed  as  if  that  might  have  been  the  plan  for 
a  fact;  the  performer  sang  part  of  Gluck's  "J'ai 
perdu  mon  Eurydice,"  in  strange  French,  and  in  a 
mournful  voice  which  served  very  well  to  display 
the  incompatibility  of  the  melody  and  the  words. 
As  it  happened,  however,  Mistress  Helen  heard  not 
a  word  of  the  song,  for  it  had  scarcely  begun  before 
she  turned  her  eyes  towards  the  doorway  and 
caught  sight  of  a  figure  that  drove  all  other  ideas 
from  her  mind.  Mr.  Harrison  had  come  at  last. 

He  was  a  tall,  dignified  man,  and  Helen's  first 
102 


KING  MIDAS 

feeling  was  of  relief  to  discover  that  he  was  neither 
coarse-looking,  nor  even  plain.  He  had  rather  too 
bright  a  complexion,  and  rather  too  large  a  sandy 
mustache,  but  his  clothes  fitted  him,  and  he  seemed 
to  be  at  ease  as  he  glanced  about  him  and  waited  in 
the  doorway  for  the  young  lady  at  the  piano  to 
finish.  While  the  faint  applause  was  still  sounding 
he  entered  with  Mrs.  Roberts,  moving  slowly  across 
the  room.  "And  now!"  thought  Helen,  "now  for  it!" 

As  she  expected,  the  two  came  towards  her,  and 
Mr.  Harrison  was  presented;  Helen,  who  was  on  the 
watch  with  all  her  faculties,  decided  that  he  bore 
that  trial  tolerably,  for  while  his  admiration  of 
course  showed  itself,  he  did  not  stare,  and  he  was 
not  embarrassed. 

"I  am  a  little  late,  I  fear,"  he  said;  "have  I 
missed  much  of  the  music?" 

"No,"  said  Helen,  "that  was  the  first  selection." 

"I  am  glad  of  that,"  said  the  other. 

According  to  the  laws  which  regulate  the  drift 
ing  of  conversation,  it  was  next  due  that  Helen 
should  ask  if  he  were  fond  of  singing;  and  then 
that  he  should  answer  that  he  was  very  fond  of  it, 
which  he  did. 

"Mrs.  Roberts  tells  me  you  are  a  skillful  musi 
cian,"  he  added;  "I  trust  that  I  shall  hear  you?" 

Helen  of  course  meant  to  play,  and  had  devoted 
some  thought  to  the  selection  of  her  program; 
therefore  she  answered:  "Possibly;  we  shall  see 
by  and  by." 

"I  am  told  that  you  have  been  studying  in  Ger 
many,"  was  the  next  observation.  "Do  you  like 
Germany?" 

103 


KING  MIDAS 

"Very  much,'7  said  Helen.  "Only  they  made  me 
work  very  hard  at  music,  and  at  everything  else." 

"That  is  perhaps  why  you  are  a  good  player," 
said  Mr.  Harrison. 

"You  ought  to  wait  until  you  hear  me,"  the  girl 
replied,  following  his  example  of  choosing  the  most 
obvious  thing  to  say. 

"I  fear  I  am  not  much  of  a  critic/'  said  the  other. 

And  so  the  conversation  drifted  on  for  several 
minutes,  Mr.  Harrison's  remarks  being  so  very  un 
inspiring  that  his  companion  could  find  no  way  to 
change  the  subject  to  anything  worth  talking  about. 

"Evidently,"  the  girl  thought,  during  a  moment 
ary  lull,  "he  has  learned  all  the  rules  of  talking, 
and  that's  why  he's  at  ease.  But  dear  me,  what  an 
awful  prospect!  It  would  kill  me  to  have  to  do  this 
often.  But  then,  to  be  sure  I  shan't  see  him  in  the 
day  time,  and  in  the  evenings  we  should  not  be  at 
home.  One  doesn't  have  to  be  too  intimate  with 
one's  husband,  I  suppose.  And  then " 

"I  think,"  said  Mr.  Harrison,  "that  your  aunt  is 
coming  to  ask  you  to  play." 

That  was  Aunt  Polly's  mission,  for  a  fact,  and 
Helen  was  much  relieved,  for  she  had  found  herself 
quite  helpless  to  lift  the  conversation  out  of  the 
slough  of  despond  into  which  it  had  fallen;  she 
wanted  a  little  time  to  collect  her  faculties  and 
think  of  something  clever  to  start  with  again. 
When  in  answer  to  the  request  of  Aunt  Polly  she 
arose  and  went  to  the  piano,  the  crushed  feeling  of 
course  left  her,  and  her  serenity  returned ;  for  Helen 
was  at  home  at  the  piano,  knowing  that  she  could 
do  whatever  she  chose,  and  do  it  without  effort.  It 

104 


KING  MIDAS 

was  a  stimulus  to  her  faculties  to  perceive  that  a 
general  hush  had  fallen  upon  the  room,  and  that 
every  eye  was  upon  her;  as  she  sat  down,  there 
fore,  all  her  old  exultation  was  back. 

She  paused  a  moment  to  collect  herself,  and  gave 
one  easy  glance  down  the  room  at  the  groups  of 
people.  She  caught  a  glimpse  as  she  did  so  of  Mr. 
Howard,  who  was  still  seated  upon  the  sofa,  lean 
ing  forward  and  resting  his  chin  in  his  hand  and 
fixing  his  eyes  upon  her.  At  another  time  the  sight 
of  his  wan  face  might  perhaps  have  annoyed  the 
girl,  but  she  was  carried  beyond  that  just  then  by 
the  excitement  of  the  moment;  her  glance  came 
back  to  the  piano,  and  feeling  that  everyone  was 
attentive  and  expectant,  she  began. 

Helen  numbered  in  her  repertoire  a  good  many 
pieces  that  were  hopelessly  beyond  the  technic 
of  the  average  salon  pianist,  and  she  had  chosen  the 
most  formidable  with  which  to  astonish  her  hear* 
ers  that  evening.  She  had  her  full  share  of  that 
pleasure  which  people  get  from  concerning  them 
selves  with  great  things:  a  pleasure  which  is  re 
sponsible  for  much  of  the  reading,  and  especially 
the  discussing,  of  the  world's  great  poets,  and  which 
brings  forth  many  lofty  sentiments  from  the  numer 
ous  class  of  persons  who  combine  idealism  with 
vanity.  Helen's  selection  was  the  first  movement 
of  the  "Sonata  Appassionata,"  and  she  was  filled 
with  a  pleasing  sense  of  majesty  and  importance  as 
she  began.  She  liked  the  first  theme  especially  be 
cause  it  was  striking  and  dignified  and  never  failed 
to  attract  attention;  and  in  what  followed  there 
was  room  for  every  shading  of  tone,  from  delicate 

105 


KING  MIDAS 

softness  that  showed  much  feeling  and  sympathy, 
to  stunning  fortissimos  that  made  everyone  stare. 
The  girl  was  relieved  of  any  possible  fear  by  the 
certainty  that  the  composition  was  completely  be 
yond  her  hearers'  understanding,  and  so  she  soon 
lost  herself  in  her  task,  and,  as  her  excitement 
mounted,  played  with  splendid  spirit  and  abandon. 
Her  calculations  proved  entirely  well  made,  for 
when  she  stopped  she  received  a  real  ovation,  hav 
ing  genuinely  astonished  her  hearers;  and  she 
crossed  the  room,  beaming  radiantly  upon  everyone 
and  acknowledging  their  compliments,  more  as 
sured  of  triumph  than  ever  before.  To  cap  the 
climax,  when  she  reached  her  seat  she  found  Mr. 
Harrison  betraying  completely  his  profound  ad 
miration,  his  gaze  being  riveted  upon  the  glowing 
girl  as  she  sat  down  beside  him. 

"Miss  Davis,"  he  said,  with  evident  sincerity, 
"that  was  really  wonderful!" 

"Thank  you  very  much,7'  said  Helen,  radiantly. 

"It  was  the  most  splendid  piano-playing  I  have 
ever  heard  in  my  life,"  the  other  went  on.  "Pray 
what  was  it  that  you  played — something  new?" 

"Oh,  no,"  was  the  answer,  "it  is  very  old  indeed." 

"Ah,"  said  Mr.  Harrison,  "those  old  composers 
were  very  great  men." 

"Yes,"  said  Helen,  demurely. 

"I  was  astonished  to  see  with  what  ease  you 
played,"  the  other  continued,  "and  yet  so  marvel- 
ously  fast!  That  must  be  a  fearfully  hard  piece  of 
music  to  play." 

"Yes,  it  is,"  said  Helen;  "but  it  is  quite  exciting," 
she  added,  fanning  herself  and  laughing. 

106 


KING  MIDAS 

Helen  was  at  the  top  of  her  being  just  then,  and 
in  perfect  command  of  things;  she  had  no  idea  of 
letting  herself  be  dragged  down  into  the  common 
place  again.  "I  think  it's  about  time  I  was  fasci 
nating  him,"  she  said  to  herself,  and  she  started  in, 
full  of  merriment  and  life.  Taking  her  last  remark 
as  a  cue,  she  told  him  funny  stories  about  the  eccen 
tricities  of  the  sonata's  great  composer,  how  he 
would  storm  and  rage  up  and  down  his  room  like  a 
madman.,  and  how  he  hired  a  boy  to  pump  water 
over  his  head  by  the  hour,  in  case  of  emergency. 

Mr.  Harrison  remarked  that  it  was  funny  how 
all  musicians  were  such  queer  chaps,  but  even  that 
did  not  discourage  Helen.  She  rattled  on,  quite  as 
supremely  captivating  as  she  had  been  at  the  din 
ner  table,  and  as  she  saw  that  her  companion  was 
yielding  to  her  spell,  the  color  mounted  to  her 
cheeks  and  her  blood  flowed  faster  yet. 

It  is  of  the  nature  of  such  flame  to  feed  itself,  and 
Helen  grew  the  more  exulting  as  she  perceived  her 
success, — and  consequently  all  the  more  irresistible. 
The  eyes  of  the  man  were  soon  riveted  upon  the 
gorgeous  vision  of  loveliness  before  him,  and  the 
contagion  of  the  girl's  animation  showed  itself 
even  in  him,  for  he  brightened  a  little,  and  was 
clever  enough  to  startle  himself.  It  was  a  new 
delight  and  stimulus  to  Helen  to  perceive  it,  and  she 
was  soon  swept  away  in  much  the  same  kind  of 
nervous  delight  as  her  phantasy  with  the  thunder 
storm.  The  sofa  upon  which  the  two  were  seated 
had  been  somewhat  apart  from  the  rest,  and  so  they 
had  nothing  to  disturb  them.  A  short  half  hour  fled 
by,  during  which  Helen's  daring  animation  ruled 

107 


KING  MIDAS 

everything,  and  at  the  end  of  which  Mr.  Harrison 
was  quite  oblivious  to  everything  about  him. 

There  were  others,  however,  who  were  watching 
the  affair;  the  keen-eyed  Aunt  Polly  was  compre 
hending  all  with  joy,  but  she  was  as  ever  calculating 
and  prudent,  and  she  knew  that  Helen's  monopoly 
of  Mr.  Harrison  would  soon  become  unpleasantly 
conspicuous,  especially  as  she  had  so  far  introduced 
him  to  no  one  else.  She  felt  that  little  would  be 
lost  by  breaking  the  spell,  for  what  the  girl  was 
doing  then  she  might  do  any  time  she  chose;  and 
so  after  waiting  a  while  longer  she  made  her  way 
unobtrusively  over  to  them  and  joined  their  con 
versation. 

Helen  of  course  understood  her  aunt's  meaning, 
and  acquiesced;  she  kept  on  laughing  and  talking 
for  a  minute  or  two  more,  and  then  at  a  lull  in  the 
conversation  she  exclaimed:  "But  I've  been  keep 
ing  Mr.  Harrison  here  talking  to  me,  and  nobody 
else  has  seen  anything  of  him."  And  so  Mr.  Harri 
son,  inwardly  anathematizing  the  rest  of  the  com 
pany,  was  compelled  to  go  through  a  long  series  of 
handshakings,  and  finally  to  be  drawn  into  a  group 
of  young  persons  whose  conversation  seemed  to  him 
the  most  inane  he  had  ever  heard  in  his  life. 

In  the  meantime  someone  else  was  giving  a  piano 
selection,  one  which  Helen  had  never  heard,  but 
which  sounded  to  every  one  like  a  finger  exercise 
after  her  own  meteoric  flight;  the  girl  sat  half 
listening  to  it  and  half  waiting  for  her  aunt  to  re 
turn,  which  Mrs.  Roberts  finally  did,  beaming  with 
gratitude. 

108 


KING  MIDAS 

"My  love/'  she  whispered,  "you  are  an  angel;  you 
have  done  better  than  I  ever  dreamed  of!" 

And  Helen  felt  her  blood  give  a  sudden  leap  that 
was  not  quite  pleasant;  the  surging  thoughts  that 
were  in  her  mind  at  that  moment  brought  back  the 
nervous  trembling  she  had  felt  in  the  carriage,  so 
that  she  leaned  against  the  sofa  for  support. 

"Now  listen,  my  dear,"  the  other  went  swiftly  on, 
perhaps  divining  the  girl's  state,  "I  want  you  to  do 
a  great  favor  for  me." 

"Was  not  that  for  you,  Auntie?"  asked  Helen, 
weakly. 

"No,  my  dear,  that  was  for  yourself.  But 
this » 

"What  is  it?" 

"I  want  you  to  come  and  talk  to  my  David  How 
ard  a  little  while." 

The  girl  gave  a  start,  and  turned  a  little  paler. 
"Aunt  Polly,"  she  exclaimed,  "not  now!  He  looks 
so  ill,  it  makes  me  nervous  even  to  see  him." 

"But,  Helen,  my  dear,  that  is  nonsense,''  was  the 
reply.  "Mr.  Howard  is  one  of  the  most  interesting 
men  you  ever  met.  He  knows  more  than  all  the 
people  in  this  room  together,  and  you  will  forget  he 
is  an  invalid  when  you  have  talked  to  him  a  while." 

Helen  was,  or  wished  to  think  herself,  upon  the 
heights  of  happiness  just  then,  and  she  shrunk 
more  than  ever  from  anything  that  was  wretched. 
"Not  now,  Aunt  Polly,"  she  said,  faintly.  "Please 
wait  until " 

"But,  my  dear,"  said  Aunt  Polly,  "now  is  the 
very  time;  you  will  wish  to  be  with  Mr.  Harrison 

109 


KING  MIDAS 

again  soon.     And  you  must  meet  Mr.  Howard,  for 
that  is  what  he  came  for." 

"I  suppose  then  I'll  have  to,''  said  Helen,  knit 
ting  her  brows;  "I'll  stroll  over  in  a  minute  or  two." 

"All  right,"  said  the  other;  "and  please  try  to 
get  acquainted  with  him,  Helen,  for  I  want  you  to 
like  him." 

"I  will  do  my  best,"  said  the  girl.  "He  won't  talk 
about  his  ailments,  will  he?" 

"No,"  said  the  other,  laughing,  "I  fancy  not. 
Talk  to  him  about  music — he's  a  great  musician, 
you  know." 

And  as  her  aunt  left  the  room,  Helen  stole  a  side 
glance  at  the  man,  who  was  alone  upon  the  sofa 
just  then.  His  chin  was  still  resting  in  his  hand, 
and  he  was  looking  at  Helen  as  before.  As  she 
glanced  at  him  thus  he  seemed  to  be  all  head,  or 
rather  all  forehead,  for  his  brow  was  very  high 
and  white,  and  was  set  off  by  heavy  black  hair. 

"He  does  look  interesting,"  the  girl  thought,  as 
she  forced  a  smile  and  walked  across  the  room;  her 
aunt  entered  at  the  same  time,  as  if  by  accident, 
and  the  two  approached  Mr.  Howard.  As  he  saw 
them  coming  he  rose,  with  some  effort  as  Helen 
noticed,  and  with  a  very  slight  look  of  pain;  it 
cost  her  some  resolution  to  give  the  man  her  hand. 
In  a  minute  or  two  more,  however,  they  were 
seated  alone  upon  the  sofa,  Aunt  Polly  having 
gone  off  with  the  remark  to  Helen  that  she  had 
made  Mr.  Howard  promise  to  talk  to  her  about 
music,  and  that  they  both  knew  too  much  about  it 
for  her.  "You  must  tell  Helen  all  about  her  play 
ing,"  she  added  to  him,  laughingly. 

no 


KING  MIDAS 

And  then  Helen,  to  carry  on  the  conversation, 
added,  "I  should  be  very  much  pleased  if  you 
would." 

"I  am  afraid  it  is  an  ungracious  task  Mrs.  Rob 
erts  has  chosen  me,"  the  man  answered,  smiling. 
"Critics  are  not  a  popular  race." 

"It  depends  upon  the  critics,"  said  Helen.  "They 
must  be  sincere." 

"That  is  just  where  they  get  into  trouble,"  was 
the  response. 

4klt  looks  as  if  he  were  going  to  be  chary  with 
his  praise/'  thought  Helen,  feeling  just  the  least 
bit  uncomfortable.  She  thought  for  a  moment,  and 
then  said,  not  without  truth,  "You  pique  my  curi 
osity,  Mr.  Howard." 

"My  criticism  could  not  be  technical,"  said  the 
other,  smiling,  again,  "for  I  am  not  a  pianist." 

"You  play  some  other  instrument?"  asked  Helen; 
afterwards  she  added,  mischievously,  "or  are  you 
just  a  critic?" 

"I  play  the  violin,"  the  man  answrered. 

"You  are  going  to  play  for  us  this  evening?" 

"No,"  said  the  other,  "I  fear  I  shall  not." 

"Why  not?"  Helen  inquired. 

"I  have  not  been  feeling  very  well  to-day,"  was 
the  response.  "But  I  have  promised  your  aunt  to 
play  some  evening;  we  had  quite  a  long  dispute." 

"You  do  not  like  to  play  in  public?"  asked  Helen. 

The  question  was  a  perfectly  natural  one,  but  it 
happened  unfortunately  that  as  the  girl  asked  it 
her  glance  rested  upon  the  figure  of  her  companion. 
The  man  chanced  to  look  at  her  at  the  same  instant, 
and  she  saw  in  a  flash  that  her  thought  had  been 

in 


KING  MIDAS 

misread.  Helen  colored  with  the  most  painful 
mortification;  but  Mr.  Howard  gave,  to  her  sur 
prise,  no  sign  of  offense. 

"No,  not  in  general,"  he  said,  with  simple  dignity. 
"I  believe  that  I  am  much  better  equipped  as  a 
listener." 

Helen  had  never  seen  more  perfect  self-possession 
than  that,  and  she  felt  quite  humbled. 

It  would  have  been  difficult  to  guess  the  age  of 
the  man  beside  her,  but  Helen  noticed  that  his  hair 
was  slightly  gray.  A  closer  view  had  only  served 
to  strengthen  her  first  impression  of  him,  that  he 
was  all  head,  and  she  found  herself  thinking  that 
if  that  had  been  all  of  him  he  might  have  been 
handsome,  tho  in  a  strange,  uncomfortable  way. 
The  broad  forehead  seemed  more  prominent  than 
ever,  and  the  dark  eyes  seemed  fairly  to  shine  from 
beneath  it.  The  rest  of  the  face,  tho  wan,  was  as 
powerful  and  massive  as  the  brow,  and  seemed  to 
Helen,  little  used  as  she  was  to  think  of  such  things, 
to  indicate  character  as  well  as  suffering. 

"It  looks  a  little  like  Arthur's,''  she  thought. 

This  she  had  been  noticing  in  the  course  of  the 
conversation;  then,  because  her  curiosity  had  really 
been  piqued,  she  brought  back  the  original  topic 
again.  "You  have  not  told  me  about  my  playing," 
she  smiled,  "and  I  wish  for  your  opinion.  I  am  very 
vain,  you  know."  (There  is  wisdom  in  avowing  a 
weakness  which  you  wish  others  to  think  you  do 
not  possess.) 

"It  gave  me  great  pleasure  to  watch  you,''  said 
the  man,  after  a  moment. 

"To  watch  me!"  thought  Helen.    "That  is  a  pal- 

112 


KING  MIDAS 

pable  evasion.  That  is  not  criticising  my  music 
itself,"  she  said  aloud,  not  showing  that  she  was  a 
trifle  annoyed. 

"You  have  evidently  been  very  well  taught,"  said 
the  other, — "unusually  well;  and  you  have  a  very 
considerable  technic."  And  Helen  was  only  more 
uncomfortable  than  ever;  evidently  the  man  would 
have  liked  to  add  a  "but''  to  that  sentence,  and  the 
girl  felt  as  if  she  had  come  near  an  icicle  in  the 
course  of  her  evening's  triumph.  However,  she  was 
now  still  more  curious  to  hear  the  rest  of  his  opin 
ion.  Half  convinced  yet  that  it  must  be  favorable 
in  the  end,  she  said: 

"I  should  not  in  the  least  mind  your  speaking 
plainly;  the  admiration  of  people  who  do  not  un 
derstand  music  I  really  do  not  care  for."  And  then 
as  Mr.  Howard  fixed  his  deep,  clear  eyes  upon  her, 
Helen  involuntarily  lowered  hers  a  little. 

"If  you  really  want  my  opinion,"  said  the  other, 
"you  shall  have  it.  But  you  must  remember  that  it 
is  yourself  who  leads  me  to  the  bad  taste  of  being 
serious  in  company." 

That  last  remark  was  in  Helen's  own  style,  and 
she  looked  interested.  For  the  rest,  she  felt  that 
she  had  gotten  into  grave  trouble  by  her  question; 
but  it  was  too  late  to  retreat  now. 

"I  will  excuse  you,"  she  said.    "I  wish  to  know." 

"Very  well,  then,"  said  Mr.  Howard;  "the  truth 
is  that  I  did  not  care  for  your  selection." 

Helen  gave  a  slight  start.  "If  that  is  all  the 
trouble,  I  need  not  worry/'  she  thought;  and  she 
added  easily,  "The  sonata  is  usually  considered  one 
of  Beethoven's  very  greatest  works,  Mr.  Howard." 

8  113 


KING  MIDAS 

"I  am  aware  of  that,"  said  the  other;  "but  do  you 
know  how  Beethoven  came  to  compose  it?" 

Helen  had  the  happy  feeling  of  a  person  of  mod 
erate  resources  when  the  conversation  turns  to  one 
of  his  specialties.  "Yes,"  she  said;  "I  have  read 
how  he  said  'So  pocht  das  Schicksal  auf  die 
Pforte.'*  Do  you  understand  that,  Mr.  Howard?" 

"Only  partly,"  said  the  other,  very  gently;  "do 
you?"  And  Helen  felt  just  then  that  she  had 
made  a  very  awkward  blunder  indeed. 

"Fate  is  a  very  dreadful  thing  to  understand, 
Miss  Davis,"  the  other  continued,  slowly.  "When 
one  has  heard  the  knock,  he  does  not  forget  it,  and 
even  the  echo  of  it  makes  him  tremble." 

"I  suppose  then,"  said  Helen,  glibly,  trying  to 
save  herself,  "that  you  think  the  sonata  is  too  seri 
ous  to  be  played  in  public?" 

"Not  exactly,"  was  the  answer;  "it  depends  upon 
the  circumstances.  There  are  always  three  persons 
concerned,  you  know.  In  this  case,  as  you  have 
pardoned  me  for  being  serious,  there  is  in  the  first 
place  the  great  genius  with  his  sacred  message;  you 
know  how  he  learned  that  his  life  work  was  to  be 
ruined  by  deafness,  and  how  he  poured  his  agony 
and  despair  into  his  greatest  symphony,  and  into 
this  sonata.  That  is  the  first  person,  Miss  Davis." 

He  paused  for  a  moment;  and  Helen  took  a  deep 
breath,  thinking  that  it  was  the  strangest  conver 
sation  she  had  ever  been  called  upon  to  listen  to 
during  an  evening's  merriment.  Yet  she  did  not 
smile,  for  the  man's  deep,  resonant  voice  fascinated 
her. 


"So  knocks  Fate  upon  the  door.' 
114 


KING  MIDAS 

"And  tin*  second?"  she  asked. 

•The  second,"  said  Mr.  Howard,  turning  his  dark, 
sunken  eves  full  upon  the  girl,  "is  another  man, 
not  a  genius,  hut  one  who  has  suffered,  I  fear,  nearly 
as  much  as  one;  a  man  who  is  very  hungry  for 
beauty,  and  very  impatient  of  insincerity,  and  who 
is  accustomed  to  look  to  the  great  masters  of  art 
for  all  his  help  and  courage." 

Helen  felt  very  uncomfortable  indeed. 

"Evidently,"  she  said,  "I  am  the  third." 

"Yes,"  said  Mr.  Howard,  *the  pianist  is  the  third. 
It  is  the  pianist's  place  to  take  the  great  wrork  and 
live  it,  and  study  it  until  he  knows  all  that  it 
means;  and  then— 

"I  don't  think  I  took  it  quite  so  seriously  as  that," 
said  Helen,  with  a  poor  attempt  at  humility. 

"No,"  said  Mr.  Howard,  gravely;  "it  was  made 
evident  to  me  that  you  did  not  by  every  note  you 
played;  for  you  treated  it  as  if  it  had  been  a  Liszt 
show-piece." 

Helen  was  of  course  exceedingly  angry  at  those 
last  blunt  words;  but  she  was  too  proud  to  let  her 
vexation  be  observed.  She  felt  that  she  had  got 
ten  herself  into  the  difficulty  by  asking  for  serious 
criticism,  for  deep  in  her  heart  she  knew  that  it 
was  true,  and  that  she  would  never  have  dared  to 
play  the  sonata  had  she  known  that  a  musician  was 
present.  Helen  felt  completely  humiliated,  her  few 
minutes'  conversation  having  been  enough  to  put 
her  out  of  humor  with  herself  and  all  of  her  sur 
roundings.  There  was  a  long  silence,  in  which  she 
had  time  to  think  of  what  she  had  heard;  she  felt  in 
spite*  of  herself  the  folly  of  what  she  had  done,  and 

US 


KING  MIDAS 

her  whole  triumph  had  suddenly  come  to  look  very 
small  indeed;  yet,  as  was  natural,  she  felt  only 
anger  against  the  man  who  had  broken  the  spell 
and  destroyed  her  illusion.  She  was  only  the  more 
irritated  because  she  could  not  find  any  ground 
upon  which  to  blame  him. 

It  would  have  been  very  difficult  for  her  to  have 
carried  on  the  conversation  after  that.  Fortunately 
a  diversion  occurred,  the  young  person  who  had 
last  played  having  gone  to  the  piano  again,  this 
time  with  a  young  man  and  a  violin. 

"Aunt  Polly  has  found  someone  to  take  your 
place/'  said  Helen,  forcing  a  smile. 

"Yes,"  said  the  other,  "she  told  me  we  had  an 
other  violinist." 

The  violinist  played  Raff's  Cavatina,  a  thing  with 
which  fiddlers  all  love  to  exhibit  themselves;  he 
played  it  just  a  little  off  the  key  at  times,  as  Helen 
might  have  told  by  watching  her  companion's  eye 
brows.  She  in  the  meantime  was  trying  to  recover 
her  equanimity,  and  to  think  what  else  she  could 
say.  "He's  the  most  uncomfortable  man  I  ever 
met,"  she  thought  with  vexation.  "I  wish  I'd  in 
sisted  upon  keeping  away  from  him !" 

However,  Helen  was  again  relieved  from  her 
plight  by  the  fact  that  as  the  fiddler  stopped  and 
the  faint  applause  died  out,  she  saw  Mr.  Harrison 
coming  towards  her.  Mr.  Harrison  had  somehow 
succeeded  in  extricating  himself  from  the  difficulty 
in  which  his  hostess  had  placed  him,  and  had  no 
doubt  guessed  that  Helen  was  no  better  pleased 
with  her  new  companion. 

116 


KING  MIDAS 

"May  I  join  you?"  he  asked,  as  lie  neared  the 
sofa. 

"Certainly,"  said  Helen,  smiling;  she  introduced 
the  two  men,  and  Mr.  Harrison  sat  down  upon  the 
other  side  of  the  girl.  Somehow  or  other  he  seemed 
less  endurable  than  he  had  just  before,  for  his  voice* 
was  not  as  soft  as  Mr.  Howard's,  and  now  that 
Helen's  animation  was  gone  she  was  again  aware 
of  the  millionaire's  very  limited  attainments. 

"That  was  a  very  interesting  thing  we  just 
heard,"  he  said.  "What  was  it?  Do  you  know?" 

Helen  answered  that  it  was  Raff's  Cavatina. 

"Cavatina?"  said  Mr.  Harrison.  "The  name 
sounds  familiar;  I  may  have  heard  it  before." 

Helen  glanced  nervously  at  Mr.  Howard;  but  the 
latter  gave  no  sign. 

"Mr.  Howard  is  himself  a  violinist,"  she  said. 
"We  must  be  careful  what  criticisms  we  make." 

"Oh,  I  do  not  make  any —  I  do  not  know 
enough  about  it,"  said  the  other,  with  heartiness 
which  somehow  seemed  to  Helen  to  fail  of  deserv 
ing  the  palliating  epithet  of  "bluff.'' 

"Mr.  Howard  has  just  been  telling  me  about  my 
own  playing,"  Helen  went  on,  growing  a  little 
desperate. 

"I  hope  he  admired  it  as  much  as  I  did,"  said 
the  unfortunate  railroad-president. 

"I'm  afraid  he  didn't,"  said  Helen,  trying  to  turn 
the  matter  into  a  laugh. 

"He  didn't!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Harrison,  in  surprise. 
"Pray,  why  not?" 

Tie  asked  the  question  of  Mr.  Howard,  and  Helen 
shuddered,  for  fear  he  might  begin  with  thai  dread- 

117 


KING  MIDAS 

ful  "There  are  always  three  persons  concerned, 
you  know."  But  the  man  merely  said,  very  quietly, 
"My  criticism  was  of  rather  a  technical  nature,  Mr. 
Harrison.'' 

"I'm  sure,  for  my  part  I  thought  her  playing 
wonderful,"  said  the  gentleman  from  Cincinnati, 
to  which  the  other  did  not  reply. 

Helen  felt  herself  between  two  fires  and  her  vex 
ation  was  increasing  every  moment;  yet,  try  as  she 
might,  she  could  not  think  of  anything  to  change 
the  subject,  and  it  was  fortunate  that  the  watchful 
Aunt  Polly  was  on  hand  to  save  her.  Mrs.  Roberts 
was  too  diplomatic  a  person  not  to  see  the  unwis 
dom  of  putting  Mr.  Harrison  in  a  position  where 
his  deficiencies  must  be  so  very  apparent,  and  so 
she  came  over,  determined  to  carry  one  of  the  two 
men  away.  She  was  relieved  of  the  trouble  by  the 
fact  that,  as  she  came  near,  Mr.  Howard  rose,  again 
with  some  pain  as  it  seemed  to  Helen,  and  asked  the 
girl  to  excuse  him.  "I  have  been  feeling  quite  ill 
to-day,"  he  explained. 

Helen,  as  she  saw  him  walk  away  with  Mrs.  Rob 
erts,  sank  back  with  a  sigh  which  was  only  half 
restrained.  "A  very  peculiar  person,"  said  Mr. 
Harrison,  who  was  clever  enough  to  divine  her 
vexation." 

"Yes,"  said  the  girl,  "very,  indeed." 

"He  seemed  to  be  lecturing  you  about  something, 
from  what  I  saw,"  added  the  other.  The  remark 
was  far  from  being  in  the  best  taste,  but  it  pleased 
Helen,  because  it  went  to  justify  her  to  herself, 
and  at  the  same  time  offered  her  an  opportunity 
to  vent  her  feelings. 

118 


ful  •  ;ied, 

tly. 
Mr. 

:    I    thought    her   playing 
_M'iii  ieman  from  Cincinnati, 

''y- 

i  two  fires  and  her  vox- 

>-ry  moment;  yet,  try  as  she 

•  I  noi   think  of  i  Change 

fortunai'  hful 

iiand  to  save  her.     Mrs.  Roberts 

11  not  t<  1111  wis- 

Mr.  Harrison  in  a  po-  -hero 

must  It-  v  appan  ;if.  and  so 

:*«MUF 

icved  of  the  trouble  by  the 

Mr.  Howard  rose,  again 

;  io  Helen,  and  asked  the 

<•  been   i  quite  ill 

vvay  with  Mrs.  Rob- 

-.  hich  was  only  half 

person,''    said    Mr. 

divine  her 

"H*  'liing, 

from  what 
was  far  froi: 

Helen,   because  --self, 

and  at  the  san  urt  unity 

to  vent  her  feelii 


KING  MIDAS 

"Yes,"  she  said.  "It  was  about  music;  he  was 
very  much  displeased  writh  me." 

"So!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Harrison.  "I  hope  you  do 
not  let  that  disturb  you?" 

"Xo,v  said  the  girl,  laughing, — "or  at  any  rate, 
I  shall  soon  recover  my  equanimity.  It  is  very  hard 
to  please  a  man  who  plays  himself,  you  know." 

"Or  who  says  he  plays,"  observed  Mr.  Harrison. 
"He  didn't  play,  you  notice." 

Helen  was  pleased  to  fancy  that  there  might  be 
wisdom  in  the  remark.  "Let  us  change  the  sub 
ject,"  she  said  more  cheerfully.  "It  is  best  to  for 
get  things  that  make  one  feel  uncomfortable." 

"I'll  leave  the  finding  of  a  new  topic  to  you,"  re 
plied  the  other,  with  graciousness  which  did  a  little 
more  to  restore  Helen's  self-esteem.  ".I  have  a  very 
humble  opinion  of  my  own  conversation." 

"Do  you  like  mine?"  the  girl  asked  with  a  laugh. 

"I  do,  indeed,"  said  Mr.  Harrison  with  equally 
pleasing  frankness.  "I  was  as  interested  as  could 
be^in  the  story  that  you  were  telling  me  when  we 
were  stopped." 

"Well,  we'll  begin  where  we  left  off!"  exclaimed 
Helen,  and  felt  as  if  she  had  suddenly  discovered  a 
doorway  leading  from  a  prison.  She  found  it  easy 
to  forget  the  recent  events  after  that,  and  Mr.  Har 
rison  grew  more  tolerable  to  her  every  moment  now 
that  the  other  was  gone;  her  self-possession  came 
back  to  her  quickly  as  she  read  his  admiration  in 
his  eyes.  Besides  that,  it  was  impossible  to  forget 
for  very  long  that  Mr.  Harrison  was  a  multi-niillion- 
aire,  and  the  object  of  the  envious  glances  of  every 
other  girl  in  the  room;  and  so  when  Aunt  Polly  re- 

119 


KING  MIDAS 

turned  a  while  later  she  found  the  conversation 
between  the  two  progressing  very  well,  and  in  fact 
almost  as  much  enjoyed  by  both  as  it  had  been  the 
first  time.  After  waiting  a  few  minutes  she  came 
to  ask  Helen  to  sing  for  the  company,  a  treat  which 
she  had  reserved  until  the  last. 

Helen's  buoyant  nature  had  by  that  time  flung 
all  her  doubts  behind  her,  and  this  last  excitement 
was  all  that  was  needed  to  sweep  her  away  entirely 
again.  She  went  to  the  piano  as  exulting  as  ever  in 
her  command  of  it  and  in  the  homage  which  it 
brought  her.  She  sang  an  arrangement  of  the 
"Preislied,"  and  she  sang  it  with  all  the  energy  and 
enthusiasm  she  possessed;  partly  because  she  had 
a  really  good  voice  and  enjoyed  the  song,  and  partly 
because  an  audience  appreciates  singing  more  easily 
than  any  other  kind  of  music.  She  really  scored 
the  success  of  the  evening.  Everybody  was  as 
enthusiastic  as  the  limits  of  good  taste  allowed,  and 
Helen  was  compelled,  not  in  the  least  against  her 
will,  to  sing  again  and  again.  While  she  was  laugh 
ing  with  happiness  and  triumph,  something  brought 
back  "Wohin"  to  her  mind,  and  she  sang  it  again, 
quite  as  gaily  as  she  had  sung  it  by  the  streamlet 
with  Arthur.  It  was  enough  to  delight  even  the 
dullest,  and  perhaps  if  Mr.  Howard  had  been  there 
even  he  would  have  applauded  a  little. 

At  any  rate,  as  Helen  rose  from  the  piano  she  re 
ceived  a  complete  ovation,  everyone  coming  to  her 
to  thank  her  and  to  praise  her,  and  to  share  in  the 
joy  of  her  beauty;  she  herself  had  never  been  more 
radiant  and  more  exulting  in  all  her  exulting  life, 
drinking  in  even  Mr.  Harrison's  rapturous  compli- 

120 


KING  MIDAS 

ments  and  finding  nothing  exaggerated  in  them. 
And  in  the  meantime,  Aunt  Polly  having  suggested 
a  waltz  to  close  the  festivities,  the  furniture  was 
rapidly  moved  to  one  side,  and  the  hostess  herself 
took  her  seat  at  the  piano  and  struck  up  the  "Invita 
tion  to  the  Dance;"  Mr.  Harrison,  who  had  been  at 
Helen's  side  since  her  singing  had  ceased,  was  of 
course  her  partner,  and  the  girl,  flushed  and  excited 
by  all  the  homage  she  had  received,  was  soon  waltz 
ing  delightedly  in  his  arms.  The  man  danced  well, 
fortunately  for  him,  and  that  he  was  the  beautiful 
girl's  ardent  admirer  was  by  this  time  evident,  not 
only  to  Helen,  but  to  everyone  else. 

In  the  mood  that  she  was  then,  the  fact  was  as 
welcome  to  her  as  it  could  possibly  have  been,  and 
when,  therefore,  Mr.  Harrison  kept  her  arm  and 
begged  for  the  next  dance,  and  the  next  in  turn, 
Helen  was  sufficiently  carried  away  to  have  no  wish 
to  refuse  hjm;  when  after  the  third  dance  she  was 
tired  out  and  sat  down  to  rest,  Mr.  Harrison  was 
still  her  companion. 

Helen  was  at  the  very  height  of  her  happiness 
then,  every  trace  of  her  former  vexation  gone,  and 
likewise  every  trace  of  her  objections  to  the  man 
beside  her.  The  music  was  still  sounding  merrily, 
and  everyone  else  was  dancing,  so  that  her  anima 
tion  did  not  seem  at  all  out  of  taste;  and  so  brilliant 
and  fascinating  had  she  become,  and  so  completely 
enraptured  was  Mr.  Harrison,  that  he  would  prob 
ably  have  capitulated  then  and  there  if  the  dancing 
had  not  ceased  and  the  company  separated  when  it 
did.  The  end  of  all  the  excitement  was  a  great 
disappointment  to  Helen;  she  was  completely  happy 

121 


KING  MIDAS 

just  then,  and  would  have  gone  just  as  far  as  the 
stream  had  carried  her.  It  being  her  first  social 
experience  was  probably  the  reason  that  she  wras 
less  easily  wearied  than  the  rest ;  and  besides,  when 
one  has  thus  yielded  to  the  sway  of  the  senses,  he 
dreads  instinctively  the  subsiding  of  the  excitement 
and  the  awakening  of  reason. 

The  awakening,  however,  is  one  that  must  always 
come;  Helen,  having  sent  away  the  maid,  suddenly 
found  herself  standing  alone  in  the  middle  of  her 
own  room  gazing  at  herself  in  the  glass,  and  seeing 
a  frightened  look  in  her  eyes.  The  merry  laughter 
of  the  guests  ceased  gradually,  and  silence  settled 
about  the  halls  of  the  great  house;  but  even  then 
Helen  did  not  move.  She  was  standing  there  still 
when  her  aunt  came  into  the  room. 

Mrs.  Roberts  was  about  as  excited  as  was  possible 
in  a  matron  of  her  age  and  dignity;  she  flung  her 
arms  rapturously  around  Helen,  and  clasped  her  to 
her.  "My  dear,"  she  cried,  "it  was  a  triumph !'> 

"Yes,  Auntie,"  said  Helen,  weakly. 

"You  dear  child,  you!"  went  on  the  other,  laugh 
ing;  "I  don't  believe  you  realize  it  yet!  Do  you 
know,  Helen,  that  Mr.  Harrison  is  madly  in  love 
with  you?  You  ought  to  be  the  happiest  girl  in 
the  land  to-night!" 

"Yes,  Auntie,"  said  Helen  again,  still  more 
weakly. 

"Come  here,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Roberts,  drawing 
her  gently  over  to  the  bed  and  sitting  down  beside 
her;  "you  are  a  little  dazed,  I  fancy,  and  I  do  not 
blame  you.  I  should  have  been  beside  myself  at 
your  age  if  such  a  thing  had  happened  to  me;  do 

122 


KING  MIDAS 

you  realize,  child,  what  a  fortune  like  Mr.  Harri 
son's  is?" 

"No,''  said  Helen,  "it  is  very  hard,  Aunt  Polly. 
I'm  afraid  about  it;  I  must  have  some  time  to 
think." 

"Think!"  laughed  the  other.  "You  queer  child! 
My  dear,  do  you  actually  mean  that  you  could  think 
of  refusing  this  chance  of  your  lifetime?" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Helen,  trembling;  "I 
don't- 

"Everybody'd  think  you  were  crazy,  child!  I 
know  I  should,  for  one.''  And  she  added,  coaxingly, 
"Let  me  tell  you  what  Mr.  Roberts  said." 

"What,  Auntie?" 

"He  sent  you  in  this  message;  he's  a  great  person 
for  doing  generous  things,  when  he  takes  it  into  his 
head.  He  told  me  to  tell  you  that  if  you'd  accept 
Mr.  Harrison's  offer  he  would  give  you  the  finest 
trousseau  that  he  could  buy.  Wasn't  that  splendid 
of  him?" 

"Yes,"  said  Helen,  "thank  him  for  me;"  and  she 
shuddered.  "Don't  talk  to  me  any  more  about  it 
now,  tho,"  she  pleaded.  "Please  don't,  Aunt 
Polly.  I  was  so  excited,  and  it  was  all  like  a  dream, 
and  I'm  half  dazed  now;  I  can't  think  about  it,  and 
I  must  think,  somehow!  It's  too  dreadful!" 

"You  shan't  think  about  it  to-night,  child," 
laughed  the  other,  "for  I  want  you  to  sleep  and  be 
beautiful  to-morrow.  See,"  she  added,  beginning 
to  unfasten  Helen's  dress,  "I'm  going  to  be  your 
little  mother  to-night,  and  put  you  to  bed." 

And  so,  soothing  the  girl  and  kissing  her  burn 
ing  forehead  and  trying  to  laugh  a  way  her  fears,  her 

123 


KING  MIDAS 

delighted  protectress  undressed  her,  and  did  not 
leave  her  until  she  had  seen  her  in  bed  and  kissed 
her  again.  "And  promise  me,  child,''  she  said,  "'that 
you  won't  worry  yourself  to-night.  Go  to  sleep, 
and  you'll  have  time  to  think  to-morrow." 

Helen  promised  that  she  would;  but  she  did  not 
keep  her  promise.  She  heard  the  great  clock  in  the 
hallway  strike  many  times,  and  when  the  darkest 
hours  of  the  night  had  passed  she  was  sitting  up  in 
bed  and  gazing  about  her  at  the  gray  shadows  in 
the  room,  holding  the  covering  tightly  about  her, 
because  she  was  very  cold;  she  was  muttering  nerv 
ously  to  herself,  half  deliriously:  "No,  no,  I  will  not 
do  it!  They  shall  not  make  me  do  it!  I  must  have 
time  to  think." 

And  when  at  last  she  fell  into  a  restless  slumber, 
that  thought  was  still  in  her  mind,  and  those  words 
upon  her  lips:  "I  will  not  do  it;  I  must  have  time 
to  think!" 


124 


CHAPTER  VI 

"And  yet  methinks  I  see  it  in  thy  face, 
What  thou  shouldst  be:  th'  occasion  speaks  thee;  and 
My  strong  imagination  sees  a  crown 
Dropping   upon   thy   head." 

WHEN  Helen  awoke  upon  the  following  morning, 
the  resolution  to  withstand  her  aunt's  urging  was 
still  strong  within  her;  as  she  strove  to  bring  back 
the  swift  events  of  the  night  before,  the  first  dis 
covery  she  made  was  a  headache  and  a  feeling  of 
weariness  and  dissatisfaction  that  was  new  to  her. 
She  arose  and  looked  in  the  glass,  and  seeing  that 
she  was  pale,  vowed  again,  "They  shall  not  torment 
me  in  this  way!  I  do  not  even  mean  that  he  shall 
propose  to  me;  I  must  have  time  to  realize  it!'' 

And  so  firm  was  she  in  her  own  mind  that  she 
rang  the  bell  and  sent  the  maid  to  call  her  aunt.  It 
was  then  only  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and 
Helen  presumed  that  neither  Mrs.  Roberts  nor  any 
of  the  other  guests  would  be  awake,  they  not  be.ing 
fresh  from  boarding  school  as  she  was;  but  the 
girl  was  so  nervous  and  restless,  and  so  weighed 
upon  by  her  urgent  resolution,  that  she  felt  she 
could  do  nothing  else  until  she  had  declared  it  and 
gotten  rid  of  the  matter.  "I'm  going  to  tell  her  once 
for  all,"  she  vowed;  "they  shall  not  torment  me  any 
more." 

125 


KING  MIDAS 

It  turned  out,  however,  that  Mrs.  Roberts  had 
been  up  and  dressed  a  considerable  time, — for  a 
reason  which,  when  Helen  learned  it,  prevented  her 
delivering  so  quickly  the  speech  she  had  upon  her 
mind;  she  noticed  a  worried  expression  upon  her 
aunt's  face  as  soon  as  the  latter  came  into  the 
room. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  she  asked,  in  some  sur 
prise. 

"A  very  dreadful  misfortune,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs. 
Roberts;  "I  don't  know  how  to  tell  you,  you'll  be 
so  put  out." 

Helen  was  quite  alarmed  as  she  saw  her  aunt  sink 
down  into  a  chair;  but  then  it  flashed  over  her  that 
Mr.  Harrison  might  have  for  some  reason  been 
called  away. 

"What  is  it?    Tell  me!"  she  asked  eagerly. 

"It's  Mr.  Howard,  my  dear,"  said  the  other;  and 
Helen  frowned. 

"Oh,  bother!"  she  cried;  "what  about  him?" 

"He's  been  ill  during  the  night,"  replied  Aunt 
Polly. 

"111!"  exclaimed  Helen.  "Dear  me,  what  a 
nuisance!" 

"Poor  man,"  said  the  other,  deprecatingly;  "he 
cannot  help  it." 

"Yes,"  exclaimed  Helen,  "but  he  ought  not  to  be 
here.  What  is  the  matter  writh  him?" 

"I  don't  know,"  was  the  reply,  "but  he  has  been 
suffering  so  all  night  that  the  doctor  has  had  to  give 
him  an  opiate." 

The  wan  countenance  of  Mr.  Howard  rose  up  be 
fore  Helen  just  then,  and  she  shuddered  inwardly. 

126 


KING  MIDAS 

"l)«-;ir  nif,  what  a  stale  of  atl'airs!"  she  exclaimed. 
"It  seems  to  me  as  if  I  were  to  have  nothing  but 
fright  and  worry.  Why  should  there  be  such  things 
in  the  world?-' 

"I  don't  know,  Helen,"  said  the  other,  "but  it  is 
certainly  inopportune  for  you.  Of  course  the  com 
pany  will  all  have  to  leave." 

"To  leave  I"  echoed  Helen;  she  had  never  once 
thought  of  that. 

"Why,  of  course,"  said  her  aunt.  "It  would  not 
be  possible  to  enjoy  ourselves  under  such  very 
dreadful  circumstances." 

"But,  Aunt  Polly,  that  is  a  shame!"  cried  the 
girl.  "The  idea  of  so  many  people  being  inconve 
nienced  for  such  a  cause.  Can't  he  be  moved?" 

"The  doctor  declares  it  would  be  impossible  at 
present,  Helen,  and  it  would  not  look  right  anyway, 
you  know.  He  will  certainly  have  to  remain  until 
he  is  better." 

"And  how  long  will  that  be?" 

"A  week,  or  perhaps  more,"  was  the  reply. 

And  Helen  saw  that  her  promised  holiday  was 
ruined;  her  emotions,  however,  were  not  all  of  dis 
appointment,  for  though  she  was  vexed  at  the  in 
terruptions,  she  recollected  with  sudden  relief  that 
she  could  thus  obtain,  and  without  so  much  effort 
of  her  own,  the  time  to  debate  the  problem  of  Mr. 
Harrison.  Also  there  was  in  her  mind,  if  not  ex 
actly  pity  for  the  invalid,  at  any  rate  the  nearest 
to  it  that  Helen  had  ever  learned  to  feel,  an  uncom 
fortable  fright  at  the  idea  of  such  suffering. 

"I  promise  you,"  said  Aunt  Polly,  who  had  been 
watching  her  face  and  trying  to  read  her  emotions, 

127 


KING  MIDAS 

"that  we  shall  only  postpone  the  good  time  I  meant 
to  give  you.  You  cannot  possibly  be  more  vexed 
about  it  than  I,  for  I  was  rejoicing  in  your  triumph 
with  Mr.  Harrison." 

"I'm  not  worrying  on  that  account,"  said  Helen, 
angrily. 

"Helen,  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Roberts,  pleadingly, 
"what  can  be  the  matter  with  you?  I  think  anyone 
who  was  watching  you  and  me  would  get  the  idea 
that  I  was  the  one  to  whom  the  fortune  is  coming. 
I  suppose  that  was  only  one  of  your  jokes,  my 
dear,  but  I  truly  don't  think  you  show  a  realization 
of  what  a  tremendous  opportunity  you  have.  You 
show  much  more  lack  of  experience  than  I  had  any 
idea  could  be  possible." 

"It  isn't  that,  Aunt  Polly,"  protested  Helen;  "I 
realize  it,  but  I  want  time  to  think." 

"To  think,  Helen!  But  what  is  there  to  think? 
It  seems  to  be  madness  to  trifle  with  such  a  chance." 

"Will  it  be  trifling  to  keep  him  waiting  a  while?" 
asked  Helen,  laughing  in  spite  of  her  vexation. 

"Maybe  not,  my  dear;  but  you  ought  to  know  that 
every  other  girl  in  this  house  would  snap  him  up  at 
one  second's  notice.  If  you'd  only  seen  them  watch 
ing  you  last  night  as  I  did." 

"I  saw  a  little,"  was  the  reply.  "But,  Aunt  Polly, 
is  Mr.  Harrison  the  only  man  whom  I  can  find?" 

"My  husband  and  I  have  been  over  the  list  of  our 
acquaintances,  and  not  found  anyone  that  can  be 
compared  with  him  for  an  instant,  Helen.  We 
know  of  no  one  that  would  do  for  you  that  has  half 
as  much  money." 

"I  never  said  he'd  do  for  me,"  said  Helen,  again 

128 


KING  MIDAS 

laughing.  "Understand  me,  Auntie,"  she  added; 
"it  isn't  that  I'd  not  like  the  fortune!  If  I  could 
get  it  without  its  attachment— 

"Hut,  my  dear,  you  know  you  can  never  get  any 
wealth  except  by  marriage;  what  is  the  use  of 
talking  such  nonsense,  even  in  fun?" 

"Hut,  listen,"  objected  Helen  in  turn;  "suppose  I 
don't  want  such  a  great  fortune — suppose  I  should 
marry  one  of  these  other  men?" 

"Helen,  if  you  only  could  know  as  much  as  I 
know  about  these  things,"  said  Mrs.  Roberts,  "if 
you  only  could  know  the  difference  between  being 
in  the  middle  and  at  the  top  of  the  social  ladder! 
Dear,  why  will  you  choose  anything  but  the  best 
when  you  can  have  the  best  if  you  want  it?  I  tell 
you  once  for  all  I  do  not  care  how  clever  you  are, 
or  how  beautiful  you  are,  the  great  people  will  look 
down  on  you  for  an  upstart  if  you  cannot  match 
them  and  make  just  as  much  of  a  show.  And  why 
can  you  not  discover  what  your  own  tastes  are?  I 
watched  you  last  night,  child;  anyone  could  have 
seen  that  you  were  in  your  element!  You  outshone 
everyone,  Helen,  and  you  should  do  just  the  same 
all  your  life.  Can  you  not  see  just  what  that  means 
to  you?" 

"Yes,  Auntie,"  said  Helen,  "but  then— 

"Were  you  not  perfectly  happy  last  night?"  in- 
hMTupted  the  other. 

"No,"  protested  the  other,  "that's  just  what  .1  was 
going  to  say." 

"The  only  reason  in  the  world  why  you  are  not, 
my  dear,  is  that  you  were  tormenting  yourself  with 
foolish  scruples.  Can  you  not  see  that  if  you  once 
9  129 


KING  MIDAS 

had  the  courage  to  rid  yourself  of  them  it  would  be 
all  that  you  need.  Why  are  you  so  weak,  Helen?" 

"It  is  not  weak!"  exclaimed  the  other. 

"Yes,"  asserted  Mrs.  Roberts,  "I  say  it  is  weak. 
It  is  weak  of  you  not  to  comprehend  what  your  life 
is  to  be,  and  what  you  need  for  your  happiness.  It 
is  a  shame  for  you  to  make  no  use  of  the  glorious 
gifts  that  are  yours,  and  to  cramp  and  hinder  all 
your  own  progress.  I  want  you  to  have  room  to 
show  your  true  powers,  Helen!" 

Helen  had  been  leaning  over  the  foot  of  the  bed 
listening  to  her  aunt,  stirred  again  by  all  her  old 
emotion,  and  angry  with  herself  for  being  stirred; 
her  unspoken  resolution  was  not  quite  so  steady  as 
it  had  been,  tho  like  all  good  resolutions  it  re 
mained  in  her  mind  to  torment  her. 

She  sprang  up  suddenly  with  a  very  nervous  and 
forced  laugh.  "I'm  glad  I  don't  have  to  argue 
with  you,  Auntie,"  she  said,  "and  that  I'm  saved 
the  trouble  of  worrying  myself  ill.  You  see  the 
Fates  are  on  my  side, — I  must  have  time  to  think, 
whether  I  want  to  or  not."  .It  was  that  comfort 
which  saved  her  from  further  struggle  with  herself 
upon  the  subject.  (Helen  much  preferred  being 
happy  to  struggling.)  She  set  hurriedly  to  work 
to  dress,  for  her  aunt  told  her  that  the  guests  were 
nearly  ready  for  breakfast. 

"Nobody  could  sleep  since  all  the  excitement," 
she  said.  "I  wonder  it  did  not  wake  you." 

"I  was  tired,"  said  Helen;  "I  guess  that  was  it." 

"You'll  find  the  breakfast  rather  a  sombre  re 
past,"  added  Mrs.  Roberts,  pathetically.  "I've  been 
up  nearly  three  hours  myself,  so  frightened  about 

130 


KING  MIDAS 


on,l(. 
^MyiU,andIwa.qiIltecertal,  .....  was  1.  hto  death 

«Ann<   .-oiiv:-  cried  II,lon  win,  .  „„,,,„.„  wild 
stari,    'why  <l<,  von  (;,lk  like  that?" 
'     won't  Kly  ilnv  mo,.e  about 


to0,r'."  SUid  MrS'  R°bertS'  "D0t  unless  yo»  want 
;ear  >?"       °USe  W0n>t  be  a  -«•>•  cheerful  p.ace,  I 


mm 


KING  MIDAS 

little  excited  when  she  heard  Mr.  Harrison  coming 
out  to  join  her  there. 

"Rather  a  sad  ending  of  our  little  party,  wasn't 
it,  Miss  Davis?"  he  said. 

aYes,"  answered  the  girl,  "I  feel  so  sorry  for  poor 
Mr.  Howard." 

"He  seemed  to  be  rather  ill  last  night,"  said  the 
other.  He  was  going  to  add  that  the  fact  perhaps 
accounted  for  the  invalid's  severity,  but  he  was 
afraid  of  shocking  Helen  by  his  levity, — a  not  en 
tirely  necessary  precaution,  unfortunately. 

"You  are  going  back  to  town  this  morning,  with 
the  others?"  Helen  asked. 

"No,"  said  Mr.  Harrison,  somewhat  to  her  sur 
prise;  "I  have  a  different  plan.'' 

"Good  Heavens,  does  he  suppose  he's  going  to 
stay  here  with  me?"  thought  the  girl. 

"I  received  your  aunt's  permission  to  ask  you," 
continued  Mr.  Harrison,  "and  so  I  need  only  yours." 

"For  what?"  Helen  inquired,  with  varied  emo 
tions. 

"To  drive  you  over  to  Oakdale  with  my  rig,"  said 
the  other.  "I  had  it  brought  down,  you  know,  be 
cause  I  thought  there  might  be  a  chance  to  use  it." 

Helen  had  turned  slightly  paler,  and  was  staring 
in  front  of  her. 

"Are  you  not  fond  of  driving,  then,  Miss  Davis?" 
asked  the  other,  as  she  hesitated. 

"Yes,"  said  Helen,  "but  I  don't  like  to  trouble 
you— _  " 

"I  assure  you  it  will  be  the  greatest  pleasure  in 
the  world,"  said  Mr.  Harrison;  "I  only  regret  that  I 

132 


KING  MIDAS 

shall  not  be  able  to  see  more  of  you,  Miss  Davis;  it 
is  only  for  the  present,  I  hope." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Helen,  still  very  faintly. 

"And  I  have  a  pair  of  horses  that  I  am  rather 
proud  of,"  added  Mr.  Harrison,  laughing;  "I  should 
like  you  to  tell  me  what  you  think  of  them.  Will 
you  give  me  the  pleasure?" 

And  Helen  could  not  hesitate  very  much  longer 
without  being  rude.  "If  you  really  wish  it,  Mr. 
Harrison,"  she  said,  "very  well."  And  then  some 
one  else  came  out  on  the  piazza  and  cut  short  the 
conversation;  Helen  had  no  time  to  think  any  more 
about  the  matter,  but  she  had  a  disagreeable  con 
sciousness  that  her  blood  was  flowing  faster  again, 
and  that  her  old  agitation  was  back  in  all  its 
strength.  Soon  afterwards  Mrs.  Roberts  came  out 
and  joined  the  two. 

"Miss  Davis  has  granted  me  the  very  great 
favor/'  said  Mr.  Harrison;  "I  fear  I  shall  be  happier 
than  I  ought  to  be,  considering  what  suffering  I 
leave  behind." 

"It  will  do  no  good  to  worry  about  it,"  said  Mrs. 
Roberts,  a  reflection  which  often  keeps  the  world 
from  wasting  its  sympathy.  "I  shall  have  your 
carriage  brought  round."  | 

"Isn't  it  rather  early  to  start?"  asked  Helen. 

"I  don't  know,"  said  her  aunt;  "is  it?" 

"We  can  take  a  little  drive  if  it  is,"  said  Mr. 
Harrison;  "I  mean  that  Miss  Davis  shall  think 
a  great  deal  of  my  horses.'' 

Helen  said  nothing,  but  stood  gazing  in  front  of 
her  across  the  lawns,  her  mind  in  a  tempest  of 
emotions.  She  could  not  put  away  from  her  the 

J33 


KING  MIDAS 

excitement  that  Mr.  Harrison's  presence  brought; 
the  visions  of  wealth  and  power  which  gleamed 
before  her  almost  overwhelmed  her  with  their  vast- 
ness.  But  she  had  also  the  memory  of  her  morn 
ing  resolve  to  trouble  her  conscience;  the  result 
was  the  same  confused  helplessness,  the  dazed  and 
frightened  feeling  which  she  so  rebelled  against. 

"I  do  not  want  to  be  troubled  in  this  way,"  she 
muttered  angrily  to  herself,  again  and  again;  "I 
wish  to  be  let  alone,  so  that  I  can  be  happy!" 

Yet  there  was  no  chance  just  then  for  her  to  find 
an  instant's  peace,  or  time  for  further  thought; 
there  were  half  a  dozen  people  about  her,  and  she 
was  compelled  to  listen  to  and  answer  commonplace 
remarks  about  the  beauty  of  the  country  in  front  of 
her,  and  about  her  singing  on  the  previous  evening. 

She  had  to  stifle  her  agitation  as  best  she  could, 
and  almost  before  she  realized  it  her  aunt  had  come 
to  summon  her  to  get  ready  for  the  drive. 

Helen  hoped  to  have  a  moment's  quiet  then;  but 
there  was  nothing  to  be  done  but  put  on  her  hat  and 
gloves,  and  Mrs.  Roberts  was  with  her  all  the  time. 
"Helen,"  she  said  pleadingly,  as  she  watched  the 
girl  surveying  herself  in  the  glass,  "I  do  hope  you 
will  not  forget  all  that  I  told  you." 

"I  wish  you  would  let  me  alone  about  it!"  cried 
Helen,  very  peevishly. 

"If  you  only  knew,  my  dear  girl,  how  much  I  have 
done  for  you,"  replied  the  other,  "and  how  I've 
planned  and  looked  forward  to  this  time,  I  don't 
think  you'd  answer  me  in  that  way." 

"It   isn't   that,   Aunt   Polly,"   exclaimed   Helen, 

134 


K  1  XG  MIDAS 

"but  I  am  so  confused  and  I  don't  know  what  to 
think." 

"I  am  Irving  inv  poor,  humble  best  to  show  you 
what  to  think.  And  you  could  not  possibly  feel 
more  worried  than  I  just  now;  Helen,  you  could 
be  rid  of  all  these  doubts  and  si  rubles  in  one  in 
stant,  if  you  chose.  Ask  yourself  if  it  is  not  true; 
you  have  only  to  give  yourself  into  the  arms  of  the 
happiness  that  calls  you.  And  you  never  will  get 
rid  of  the  matter  in  any  other  way, — indeed  you 
will  not!  If  you  should  fling  away  this  chance,  the 
memory  of  it  would  never  leave  you  all  your  life; 
after  you  knew  it  was  too  late,  you  would  torment 
yourself  a  thousand  times  more  than  ever  you  can 
now." 

"Oh,  dear,  dear!"  cried  Helen,  half  hysterically; 
"I  can't  stand  that,  Aunt  Polly.  I'll  do  anything, 
only  let  me  alone!  My  head  is  aching  to  split,  and 
J  don't  know  where  I  am." 

"And  you  will  never  find  another  chance  like  it, 
Helen,"  went  on  the  other,  with  sledge-hammer  re- 
morselessness.  "For  if  you  behave  in  this  perfectly 
insane  way  and  lose  this  opportunity,  I  shall  simply 
give  you  up  in  despair  at  your  perversity.'' 

"But  I  haven't  said  I  was  going  to  lose  it,"  the 
girl  exclaimed.  "He  won't  be  any  the  less  in  love 
with  me  if  I  make  him  wait,  Aunt  Polly! — 

"Mr.  Harrison  was  going  back  to  Cincinnati  in  a 
day  or  two,"  put  in  Mrs.  Roberts,  swiftly. 

"He  will  stay  if  I  wish  him  to,"  was  the  girl's 
reply.  "There  is  no  need  for  so  much  worry;  one 
would  think  I  was  getting  old." 

"Old!"  laughed  the  other.    "You  are  so  beautiful 

135 


KING  MIDAS 

this  morning,  Helen,  that  I  could  fall  in  love  with 
you  myself."  She  turned  the  girl  towards  her,  see 
ing  that  her  toilet  was  finished.  "I  haven't  a 
thought  in  the  world,  dear,  but  to  keep  you  so 
beautiful,"  she  said;  "I  hate  to  see  you  tormenting 
yourself  and  making  yourself  so  pale;  why  will  you 
not  take  my  advice  and  fling  all  these  worries  aside 
and  let  yourself  be  happy?  That  is  all  I  want 
you  to  do,  and  it  is  so  easy!  Why  is  it  that  you  do 
not  want  to  be  happy?  I  like  to  see  you  smile, 
Helen!"  And  Helen,  who  was  tired  of  struggling, 
made  a  wry  attempt  to  oblige  her,  and  then  broke 
into  a  laugh  at  herself.  Meanwhile  the  other  picked 
a  rose  from  a  great  bunch  of  them  that  lay  upon 
the  bureau,  and  pinned  it  upon  her  dress. 

"There,  child,"  she,  said,  "he  can  never  resist  you 
now,  J  know!" 

Helen  kissed  her  excitedly  upon  the  cheek,  and 
darted  quickly  out  of  the  door,  singing,  in  a  brave 
attempt  to  bring  back  her  old,  merry  self: — 

"The  flowers  that  bloom  in  the  spring,  tra-la-la, 
Have  nothing  to  do  with  the  case." 

A  moment  later,  however,  she  recollected  Mr. 
Howard  and  his  misfortune,  and  her  heart  sank; 
she  ran  quickly  down  the  steps  to  get  the  thought 
of  him  from  her  mind. 

It  was  easy  enough  to  forget  him  and  all  other 
troubles  as  well  when  she  was  once  outside  upon 
the  piazza;  for  there  were  plenty  of  happy  people, 
and  everyone  crowded  about  her  to  bid  her  good-by. 
There  too  was  Mr.  Harrison  standing  upon  the  steps 
waiting  for  her,  and  there  was  his  driving-cart  with 

136 


KING  MIDAS 

two  magnificent  black  horses,  alert  and  eager  for 
the  sport.  Helen  was  not  much  of  a  judge  of  horses, 
having  never  had  one  of  her  own  to  drive,  but  she 
had  the  eye  of  a  person  of  aristocratic  tastes  for 
what  was  in  good  form,  and  she  saw  that  Mr.  Harri 
son's  turnout  was  all  of  that,  with  another  at 
traction  for  her,  that  it  was  daring;  for  the  horses 
were  lithe,  restless  creatures,  thoroughbreds,  both 
of  them;  and  it  looked  as  if  they  had  not  been  out 
of  the  stable  in  a  week.  They  were  giving  the 
groom  who  held  them  all  that  he  could  do. 

Mr.  Harrison  held  out  his  hand  to  the  girl  as  she 
came  down  the  steps,  and  eyed  her  keenly  to  see  if 
her  flushed  cheeks  would  betray  any  sign  of  fear. 
But  Helen's  emotions  were  surging  too  strongly  for 
such  thoughts,  and  she  had,  besides,  a  little  of  the 
thoroughbred  nature  herself.  She  laughed  gaily  as 
she  gave  her  hand  to  her  companion  and  sprang 
into  the  wagon;  he  followed  her,  and  as  he  took 
the  reins  the  groom  sprang  aside  and  the  two 
horses  bounded  away  down  the  broad  avenue. 
Helen  turned  once  to  wave  her  hand  in  answer  to 
the  chorus  of  good-bys  that  sounded  from  the  porch, 
and  then  she  faced  about  and  sank  back  into  the 
seat  and  drank  in  with  delight  the  fresh  morning 
breeze  that  blew  in  her  face. 

"Oh,  I  think  this  is  fine!"  she  cried. 

"You  like  driving,  then?"  asked  the  other. 

"Yes  indeed,"  was  the  reply.  "I  like  this  kind 
ever  so  much." 

"Wait  until  we  get  out  on  the  high-road,"  said  Mr. 
Harrison,  "and  then  we  will  see  what  we  can  do. 

137 


KING  MIDAS 

I  came  from  the  West,  you  know,  Miss  Davis,  so  I 
think  I  am  wise  on  the  subject  of  horses.'' 

The  woods  on  either  side  sped  by  them,  and 
Helen's  emotions  soon  began  to  flow  faster.  It  was 
always  easy  for  her  to  forget  everything  and  lose 
herself  in  feelings  of  joy  and  power,  and  it  was 
especially  easy  when  she  was  as  much  wrought  up 
as  she  was  just  then.  It  was  again  her  ride  with 
the  thunderstorm,  and  soon  she  felt  as  if  she  were 
being  swept  out  into  the  rejoicing  and  the  victory 
once  more.  She  might  have  realized,  if  she  had 
thought,  that  her  joy  was  coming  only  because  she 
was  following  her  aunt's  advice,  and  yielding  her 
self  into  the  arms  of  her  temptation ;  but  Helen  was 
thoroughly  tired  of  thinking;  she  wanted  to  feel, 
and  again  and  again  she  drank  in  deep  breaths  of 
the  breeze. 

It  was  only  a  minute  or  so  before  they  passed 
the  gates  of  the  Roberts  place,  and  swept  out  of  the 
woods  and  into  the  open  country.  It  was  really 
inspiring  then,  for  Mr.  Harrison  gave  his  horses 
the  reins,  and  Helen  was  compelled  to  hold  on  to 
her  hat.  He  saw  delight  and  laughter  glowing  in 
her  countenance  as  she  watched  the  landscape  that 
fled  by  them,  with  its  hillsides  clad  in  their  brightest 
green  and  with  its  fresh-plowed  farm-lands  and 
snowy  orchards;  the  clattering  of  the  horses'  hoofs 
and  the  whirring  of  the  wheels  in  the  sandy  road 
were  music  and  inspiration  such  as  Helen  longed 
for,  and  she  would  have  sung  with  all  her  heart  had 
she  been  alone. 

As  was  her  way,  she  talked  instead,  with  the  same 
animation  and  glow  that  had  fascinated  her  com- 

138 


KING  MIDAS 

panion  upon  the  previous  evening.  She  talked  of 
the  sights  that  were  about  them,  and  when  they 
came  to  the  top  of  the  hill  and  paused  to  gaze 
around  at  the  view,  she  told  about  her  trip  through 
the  Alps,  and  pictured  the  scenery  to  him,  and  nar 
rated  some  of  her  mountain-climbing  adventures; 
and  then  Mr.  Harrison,  who  must  have  been  a  dull 
man  indeed  not  to  have  felt  the  contagion  of  Helen's 
happiness,  told  her  about  his  own  experiences  in  the 
Rockies,  to  which  the  girl  listened  with  genuine 
interest.  Mr.  Harrison's  father,  so  he  told  her,  had 
been  a  station-agent  of  a  little  town  in  one  of  the 
wildest  portions  of  the  mountains;  he  himself  had 
begun  as  a  railroad  surveyor,  and  had  risen  step  by 
step  by  constant  exertion  and  watchfulness.  It 
was  a  story  of  a  self-made  man,  such  as  Helen  had 
vowed  to  her  aunt  she  could  not  bear  to  listen  to; 
yet  she  did  not  find  it  disagreeable  just  then.  There 
was  an  exciting  story  of  a  race  with  a  rival  road, 
to  secure  the  right  to  the  best  route  across  the 
mountains;  Helen  found  it  quite  as  exciting  as 
music,  and  said  so. 

"Perhaps  it  is  a  kind  of  music,"  said  Mr.  Harri 
son,  laughing;  "it  is  the  only  kind  I  have  cared  any 
thing  about,  excepting  yours." 

"I  had  no  idea  people  had  to  work  so  hard  in  the 
world,"  said  Helen,  dodging  the  compliment. 

"They  do,  unless  they  have  someone  else  to  do  it 
for  them,"  said  the  other.  "It  is  a  fierce  race,  now 
adays,  and  a  man  has  to  watch  and  think  every 
minute  of  the  time.  But  it  is  glorious  to  triumph." 

Helen  found  herself  already  a  little  more  in 
a  position  to  realize  what  ten  million  dollars 

139 


KING  MIDAS 

amounted  to,  arid  very  much  more  respectful  and 
awe-stricken  in  her  relation  to  them.  She  was 
sufficiently  oblivious  to  the  flight  of  time  to  be  quite 
surprised  when  she  gazed  about  her,  and  discovered 
that  they  were  within  a  couple  of  miles  of  home. 
"I  had  no  idea  of  how  quickly  we  were  going,"  she 
said. 

"You  are  not  tired,  then?"  asked  the  other. 

"No  indeed,"  Helen  answered,  "I  enjoyed  it  ever  so 
much.7' 

"We  might  drive  farther,"  said  Mr.  Harrison; 
"these  horses  are  hardly  waked  up." 

He  reined  them  in  a  little  and  glanced  at  his 
watch.  "It's  just  eleven,"  he  said,  "I  think  there'd 
be  time,"  and  he  turned  to  her  with  a  smile. 
"Would  you  like  to  have  an  adventure?"  he  asked. 

"I  generally  do,"  replied  the  girl.    "What  is  it?" 

"I  was  thinking  of  a  drive,'7  said  the  other;  "one 
that  we  could  just  about  take  and  return  by  lunch- 
time;  it  is  about  ten  miles  from  here." 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Helen. 

"I  have  just  bought  a  country  place  near  here," 
said  Mr.  Harrison.  "I  thought  perhaps  you  would 
like  to  see  it." 

"My  aunt  spoke  of  it,"  Helen  answered;  "the 
Eversons'  old  home." 

"Yes,"  said  the  other;  "you  know  it,  then?" 

"I  only  saw  it  once  in  my  life,  when  I  was  a  very 
little  girl,"  Helen  replied,  "and  so  I  have  only  a 
dim  recollection  of  its  magnificence;  the  old  man 
who  lived  there  never  saw  any  company." 

"It  had  to  be  sold  because  he  failed  in  business," 
said  Mr.  Harrison.  "Would  you  like  to  drive  over?" 

140 


KING  MIDAS 

"Very  much,"  said  Helen,  and  a  minute  later, 
when  they  came  to  a  fork  in  the  road,  they  took  the 
one  which  led  them  to  "Fail-view,"  as  the  place  was 
called. 

"I  think  it  a  tremendously  fine  property  myself," 
said  Mr.  Harrison;  "I  made  up  my  mind  to  have  it 
the  first  time  I  saw  it.  I  haven't  seen  anything 
around  here  to  equal  it,  and  I  hope  to  make  a  real 
English  country-seat  out  of  it.  I'll  tell  you  about 
what  I  want  to  do  when  we  get  there,  and  you  can 
give  me  your  advice;  a  man  never  has  good  taste, 
you  know." 

"I  should  like  to  see  it,"  answered  Helen,  smiling; 
"I  have  a  passion  for  fixing  up  things." 

"We  had  an  exciting  time  at  the  sale,"  went  on 
Mr.  Harrison  reminiscently.  "You  know  Mr.  Ever- 
son's  family  wanted  to  keep  the  place  themselves, 
and  the  three  or  four  branches  of  the  family  had 
clubbed  together  to  buy  it;  when  the  bidding  got 
near  the  end,  there  was  no  one  left  but  the  family 
and  myself." 

"And  you  got  it?"  said  Helen.    "How  cruel!" 

"The  strongest  wins,''  laughed  the  other.  "I  had 
made  up  my  mind  to  have  it.  The  Eversons  are  a 
very  aristocratic  family,  aren't  they?" 

"Yes,"  said  Helen,  "very,  indeed;  they  have  lived 
in  this  part  of  the  country  since  the  Revolution." 
As  Mr.  Harrison  went  on  to  tell  her  the  story  of  the 
sale  she  found  herself  vividly  reminded  of  what  her 
aunt  had  told  her  of  the  difference  between  having 
a  good  deal  of  money  and  all  the  money  one  wanted. 
Perhaps,  also,  her  companion  was  not  without  sonip 
such  vaguely  felt  purpose  in  the  telling.  At  any, 

141 


KING  MIDAS 

rate,  the  girl  was  trembling  inwardly  more  and 
more  at  the  prospect  which  was  unfolding  itself 
before  her;  as  excitement  always  acted  upon  her  as 
a  stimulant,  she  was  at  her  very  best  during  the  rest 
of  the  drive.  She  and  her  companion  were  con 
versing  very  merrily  indeed  when  Fairview  was 
reached. 

The  very  beginning  of  the  place  was  imposing, 
for  there  was  a  high  wall  along  the  roadway  for 
perhaps  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  and  then  two  massive 
iron  gates  set  in  great  stone  pillars;  they  were 
opened  by  the  gate-keeper  in  response  to  Mr.  Harri 
son's  call.  Once  inside  the  two  had  a  drive  of  some 
distance  through  what  had  once  been  a  handsome 
park,  though  it  was  a  semi-wilderness  then.  The 
road  ascended  somewhat  all  the  way,  until  the  end 
of  the  forest  was  reached,  and  the  first  view  of  the 
house  was  gained;  Helen  could  scarcely  restrain  a 
cry  of  pleasure  as  she  saw  it,  for  it  was  really  a 
magnificent  old  mansion,  built  of  weather-beaten 
gray  stone,  and  standing  upon  a  high  plateau,  sur 
rounded  by  a  lawn  and  shaded  by  half  a  dozen  great 
oaks;  below  it  the  lawn  sloped  in  a  broad  terrace, 
and  in  the  valley  thus  formed  gleamed  a  little  trout- 
pond,  set  off  at  the  back  by  a  thickly-wooded 
hillside. 

"Isn't  it  splendid!"  the  girl  exclaimed,  gazing 
about  her. 

"I  thought  it  was  rather  good,"  said  Mr.  Harri 
son,  deprecatingly.  "It  can  be  made  much  finer,  of 
course." 

"When  you  take  your  last  year's  hay  crop  from 
the  lawn,  for  one  thing,"  laughed  she.  "But  I  had 

142 


KING  MIDAS 

no  idea  there  was  anything  so  beautiful  near  our 
little  Oakdale.  Just  look  at  that  tremendous 
entrance!" 

"It's  all  built  in  royal  style,"  said  Mr.  Harrison. 
"The  family  must  have  been  wealthy  in  the  old 
days." 

"Probably  slave-dealers,  or  something  of  that 
kind,"  observed  Helen.  "Is  the  house  all  furnished 
inside?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  other,  "but  I  expect  to  do  most  of 
it  over.  Wouldn't  you  like  to  look?"  He  asked 
the  question  as  he  saw  the  gate-keeper  coming  up 
the  road,  presumably  with  the  keys. 

The  girl  gazed  about  her  dubiously;  she  would 
have  liked  to  go  in,  except  that  she  was  certain  it 
would  be  improper.  Helen  had  never  had  much  re 
spect  for  the  proprieties,  however,  being  accus 
tomed  to  rely  upon  her  own  opinions  of  things;  and 
in  the  present  case,  besides,  she  reflected  that  no 
one  would  ever  know  anything  about  it. 

"We'd  not  have  time  to  do  more  than  glance 
around,"  continued  the  other,  "but  we  might  do 
that,  if  you  like." 

"Yes,"  said  Helen,  after  a  moment  more  of  hesi 
tation,  "I  think  I  should." 

Her  heart  was  beating  very  fast  as  the  two  as 
cended  the  great  stone  steps  and  as  the  door  opened 
before  them;  her  mind  could  not  but  be  filled  with 
the  overwhelming  thought  that  all  that  she  saw 
might  be  hers  if  she  really  wanted  it.  The  mere 
imagining  of  Mr.  Harrison's  wealth  had  been 
enough  to  make  her  thrill  and  burn,  so  it  was  to  be 
expected  that  the  actual  presence  of  some  of  it 

143 


KING  MIDAS 

would  not  fail  of  its  effect.  It  is  to  be  observed 
that  the  great  Temptation  took  place  upon  a  high 
mountain,  where  the  kingdoms  of  the  earth  could 
really  be  seen;  and  Helen  as  she  gazed  around  had 
the  further  knowledge  that  the  broad  landscape  and 
palatial  house,  which  to  her  were  almost  too  splen 
did  to  be  real,  were  after  all  but  a  slight  trifle  to 
her  companion. 

"*  The  girl  entered  the  great  hallway,  with  its  huge 
fireplace  and  its  winding  stairway,  and  then  strolled 
through  the  parlors  of  the  vast  house;  Helen  had  in 
all  its  fullness  the  woman's  passion  for  spending 
money  for  beautiful  things,  and  it  had  been  her 
chief  woe  in  all  her  travels  that  the  furniture  and 
pictures  and  tapestry  which  she  gazed  at  with  such 
keen  delight  must  be  forever  beyond  her  thoughts. 
Just  at  present  her  fancy  was  turned  loose  and 
madly  reveling  in  these  memories,  while  always 
above  her  wildest  flights  was  the  intoxicating  cer 
tainty  that  there  was  no  reason  why  they  should 
not  all  be  possible.  She  could  not  but  recollect  with 
a  wondering  smile  that  only  yesterday  she  had  been 
happy  at  the  thought  of  arranging  one  dingy  little 
parlor  in  her  country  parsonage,  and  had  been  try 
ing  to  persuade  her  father  to  the  extravagance  of 
re-covering  two  chairs. 

It  would  have  been  hard  for  Helen  to  keep  her 
emotions  from  Mr.  Harrison,  and  he  must  have 
guessed  the  reason  why  she  was  so  flushed  and  ex 
cited.  They  were  standing  just  then  in  the  center 
of  the  great  dining-room,  with  its  massive  furniture 
of  black  mahogany,  and  she  was  saying  that  it 
ought  to  be  papered  in  dark  red,  and  was  conjuring 

144 


KING  MIDAS 

up  the  effect  to  herself.  "Something  rich,  you 
know,  to  set  off  the  furniture,"  she  explained. 

"And  you  must  take  that  dreadful  portrait  from 
over  the  mantel,"  she  added,  laughing.  (It  was  a 
picture  of  a  Revolutionary  warrior,  on  horseback 
and  in  full  uniform,  the  coloring  looking  like  faded 
oilcloth.) 

"I  had  thought  of  that  myself,"  said  Mr.  Harri 
son.  "It's  the  founder  of  the  Eversons;  there's  a 
picture  gallery  in  a  hall  back  of  here,  with  two 
whole  rows  of  ancestors  in  it." 

"Why  don't  you  adopt  them?"  asked  Helen  mis 
chievously. 

"One  can  buy  all  the  ancestors  one  wants  to,  now 
adays,"  laughed  Mr.  Harrison.  "I  thought  I'd  make 
something  more  interesting  out  of  it.  I'm  not  much 
of  a  judge  of  art,  you  know,  but  I  thought  if  I  ever 
went  abroad  I'd  buy  up  some  of  the  great  paintings 
that  one  reads  about — some  of  the  old  masters, 
you  know." 

"I'm  afraid  you'd  find  very  few  of  them  for  sale," 
said  Helen,  smiling. 

"I'm  not  accustomed  to  fail  in  buying  things  that 
I  want,''  was  the  other's  reply.  "Are  you  fond  of 
pictures?" 

"Very  much  indeed,"  answered  the  girl.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  the  mere  mention  of  the  subject 
opened  a  new  kingdom  to  her,  for  she  could  not 
count  the  number  of  times  she  had  sat  before 
beautiful  pictures  and  almost  wept  at  the  thought 
that  she  could  never  own  one  that  was  really  worth 
looking  at.  UI  brought  home  ti  few  myself,"  she 
said  to  her  companion, — "just  engravings,  you 
10  145 


KING  MIDAS 

know,  half  a  dozen  that  I  thought  would  please  me; 
I  mean  to  hang  them  around  mj  music-room.7' 

aTell  me  about  it,"  said  Mr,  Harrison.  "I  have 
been  thinking  of  fixing  up  such  a  place  myself,  you 
know.  I  thought  of  extending  the  house  on  the 
side  that  has  the  fine  view  of  the  valley,  and  mak 
ing  part  a  piazza,  and  part  a  conservatory  or  music- 
room." 

"It  could  be  both!"  exclaimed  the  girl,  eagerly. 
"That  would  be  the  very  thing;  there  ought  not  to 
be  anything  in  a  music-room,  you  know,  except  the 
piano  and  just  a  few  chairs,  and  the  rest  all  flowers. 
The  pictures  ought  all  to  be  appropriate— pictures 
of  nature,  of  things  that  dance  and  are  beautiful; 
oh,  I  could  lose  myself  in  such  a  room  as  that!" 
and  Helen  ran  on,  completely  carried  away  by  the 
fancy,  and  forgetting  even  Mr.  Harrison  for  a 
moment. 

"I  have  often  dreamed  of  such  a  place,"  she  said, 
"where  everything  would  be  sympathetic;  it's  a 
pity  that  one  can't  have  a  piano  taken  out  into 
the  fields,  the  way  I  remember  reading  that  Haydn 
used  to  do  with  his  harpsichord.  If  I  were  a  violin 
ist,  that's  the  way  I'd  do  all  my  playing,  because 
then  one  would  not  need  to  be  afraid  to  open  his 
eyes;  oh,  it  would  be  fine 

Helen  stopped;  she  was  at  the  height  of  her  ex 
citement  just  then;  and  the  climax  came  a  moment 
afterwards.  "Miss  Davis,"  asked  the  man,  "would 
you  really  like  to  arrange  such  a  music-room?" 

The  tone  of  his  voice  was  so  different  that  the 
girl  comprehended  instantly;  it  was  this  moment 
to  which  she  had  been  rushing  with  so  much  exul- 

146 


KING  MIDAS 

tation;  but  when  it  came  her  heart  almost  stopped 
beating,  and  she  gave  a  choking  gasp. 

"Would  you  really  like  it?"  asked  Mr.  Harrison 
again,  bending  towards  her  earnestly. 

"Why,  certainly,''  said  Helen,  making  one  blind 
and  desperate  effort  to  dodge  the  issue.  "I'll  tell 
you  everything  that  is  necessary." 

"That  is  not  what  I  mean,  Miss  Davis!" 

"Not?"  echoed  Helen,  and  she  tried  to  look  at 
him  with  her  frank,  open  eyes;  but  when  she  saw 
his  burning  look,  she  could  not;  she  dropped  her 
eyes  and  turned  scarlet. 

"Miss  Davis,"  went  on  the  man  rapidly,  "I  have 
been  waiting  for  a  chance  to  tell  you  this.  Let  me 
tell  you  now!" 

Helen  gazed  wildly  about  her  once,  as  if  she 
would  have  fled;  then  she  stood  with  her  arms  lying 
helplessly  at  her  sides,  trembling  in  every  nerve. 

"There  is  very  little  pleasure  that  one  can  get 
from  such  beautiful  things  alone,  Miss  Davis,  and 
especially  when  he  is  as  dulled  by  the  world  as  my 
self.  I  thought  that  some  day  I  might  be  able  to 
share  them  with  some  one  who  could  enjoy  them 
more  than  I,  but  I  never  knew  who  that  person  was 
until  last  night.  I  know  that  I  have  not  much  else 
to  offer  you,  except  what  wealth  and  position  I  have 
gained;  and  when  I  think  of  all  your  accomplish 
ments,  and  all  that  you  have  to  place  you  so  far 
beyond  me,  I  almost  fear  to  offer  myself  to  you. 
But  I  can  only  give  what  I  have — my  humble  ad 
miration  of  your  beauty  and  your  powers;  and  the 
promise  to  worship  you,  to  give  the  rest  of  my  life 
to  seeing  that  you  have  everything  in  the  world 

147 


KING  MIDAS 

that  you  want.  I  will  put  all  that  I  own  at  your 
command,  and  get  as  much  more  as  I  can,  with  no 
thought  but  of  your  happiness." 

Mr.  Harrison  could  not  have  chosen  words  more 
fitted  to  win  the  trembling  girl  beside  him;  that 
he  should  recognize  as  well  as  she  did  her  superior 
ity  to  him,  removed  half  of  his  deficiency  in  her 
eyes. 

"Miss  Davis,"  the  other  went  on,  "I  cannot  know 
how  you  will  feel  toward  such  a  promise,  but  I 
cannot  but  feel  that  what  I  possess  could  give  you 
opportunities  of  much  happiness.  You  should  have 
all  the  beauty  about  you  that  you  wished,  for  there 
is  nothing  in  the  world  too  beautiful  for  you;  and 
you  should  have  every  luxury  that  money  can  buy, 
to  save  you  from  all  care.  If  this  house  seemed  too 
small  for  you,  you  should  have  another  wherever 
you  desired  it,  and  be  mistress  of  it,  and  of  every 
thing  in  it ;  and  if  you  cared  for  a  social  career,  you 
should  have  everything  to  help  you,  and  it  would 
be  my  one  happiness  to  see  your  triumph.  I  would 
give  a  thousand  times  what  I  own  to  have  you  for 
my  wife." 

So  the  man  continued,  pleading  his  cause,  until  at 
last  he  stopped,  waiting  anxiously  for  a  sign  from 
the  girl;  he  saw  that  she  was  agitated,  for  her 
breast  was  heaving,  and  her  forehead  flushed,  but 
he  could  not  tell  the  reason.  "Perhaps,  Miss  Davis," 
he  said,  humbly,  "you  will  scorn  such  things  as  I 
have  to  offer  you;  tell  me,  is  it  that?" 

Helen  answered  him,  in  a  faint  voice,  "It  is  not 
that,  Mr.  Harrison;  it  is, — it  is, " 

"What,  Miss  Davis?" 

148 


KING  MIDAS 

"II  has  been  but  a  day!  I  have  had  no  time  to 
know  you — to  love  you." 

And  Helen  stopped,  afraid  at  the  words  she  her 
self  was  using;  for  she  knew  that  for  the  first  time 
in  her  life  she  had  stooped  to  a  sham  and  a  lie.  Her 
whole  soul  was  ablaze  with  longing  just  then,  with 
longing  for  the  power  ;t:id  the  happiness  which  this 
man  held  out  to  IKM-;  and  she  meant  to  take  him, 
she  had  no  longer  a  thought  of  resistance.  It  was 
all  the  world  which  offered  itself  to  her,  and  she 
meant  to  clasp  it  to  her- — to  lose  herself  quite 
utterly  and  forget  herself  in  it,  and  she  was  already 
drunk  with  the  thought.  Therefore  she  could  not 
but  shudder  as  she  heard  the  word  "love"  upon 
her  lips,  and  knew  that  she  had  used  it  because  she 
wrished  to  make  a  show  of  hesitation. 

"I  did  not  need  but  one  day,  Miss  Davis,"  went 
on  the  other  pleadingly,  "to  know  that  .1  loved  you 
—to  know  that  I  no  longer  set  any  value  on  the 
things  that  I  had  struggled  all  my  life  to  win; 
for  you  are  perfect,  Miss  Davis.  You  are  so  far 
beyond  me  that  I  have  scarcely  the  courage  to  ask 
you  what  I  do.  But  I  must  ask  you,  and  know  my 
fate." 

He  stopped  again  and  gazed  at  her;  and  Helen 
looked  at  him  wildly,  and  then  turned  away  once 
more,1  trembling.  She  wished  that  he  would  only 
continue  still  longer,  for  the  word  was  upon  her 
lips,  and  yet  it  was  horror  for  her  to  utter  it,  be 
cause  she  felt  she  ought  not  to  yield  so  soon, — 
because  she  wanted  some  delay;  she  sought  for 
some  word  that  would  be  an  evasion,  that  would 
make  him  urge  her  more  strongly;  she  wished  to  be 

149 


KING  MIDAS 

wooed  and  made  to  surrender,  and  yet  she  could 
find  no  pretext. 

"Answer  me,  Miss  Davis!"  exclaimed  the  other, 
passionately. 

"What — what  do  you  wish  me  to  say?"  asked 
Helen  faintly. 

"I  wish  you  to  tell  me  that  you  will  be  my  wife; 
I  wish  you  to  take  me  for  what  I  can  give  you  for 
your  happiness  and  your  glory.  I  ask  nothing  else, 
I  make  no  terms;  if  you  will  do  it,  it  will  make  me 
the  happiest  man  in  the  world.  There  is  nothing 
else  that  I  care  for  in  life." 

And  then  as  the  girl  still  stood,  flushed  and  shud 
dering,  hovering  upon  the  verge,  he  took  her  hand 
in  his  and  begged  her  to  reply.  "You  must  not 
keep  me  in  suspense!"  he  exclaimed.  "You  must 
tell  me, — tell  me." 

And  Helen,  almost  sinking,  answered  him  "Yes!" 
It  was  such  a  faint  word  that  she  scarcely  heard  it 
herself,  but  the  other  heard  it,  and  trembling  with 
delight,  he  caught  her  in  his  arms  and  pressed  a 
burning  kiss  upon  her  cheek. 

The  effect  surprised  him;  for  the  fire  which  had 
burned  Helen  and  inflamed  her  cheeks  had  been  am 
bition,  and  ambition  alone.  It  was  the  man's 
money  that  she  wanted  and  she  was  stirred  with  no 
less  horror  than  ever  at  the  thought  of  the  price  to 
be  paid;  therefore  the  touch  of  his  rough  mustache 
upon  her  cheek  acted  upon  her  as  an  electric  con 
tact,  and  all  the  shame  in  her  nature  burst  into 
flame.  She  tore  herself  loose  with  almost  a  scream. 
"No,  no!"  she  cried.  "Stop!" 

Mr.  Harrison  gazed  at  her  in  astonishment  for  a 

150 


KING  MIDAS 

moment,  scarcely  able  to  find  a  word  to  say.  "Miss 
Davis,"  he  protested,  "Helen — what  is  the  matter?" 

"You  had  no  right  to  do  that!''  she  cried,  trem 
bling  with  anger. 

''Helen!''  protested  the  other,  "have  you  not  just 
promised  to  be  my  wife?''  And  the  words  made  the 
girl  turn  white  and  drop  her  eyes  in  fear. 

"Yes,  yes,"  she  panted  helplessly,  "but  you  should 
not — it  is  too  soon!"  The  other  stood  watching 
her,  perhaps  divining  a  little  of  the  cause  of  her 
agitation,  and  feeling,  at  any  rate,  that  he  could  be 
satisfied  for  the  present  with  his  success.  He 
answered,  very  humbly,  "Perhaps  you  are  right;  I 
am  very  sorry  for  offending  you,"  and  stood  silently 
waiting  until  the  girl's  emotions  had  subsided  a 
little,  and  she  had  looked  at  him  again.  "You  will 
pardon  me?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,  yes,"  she  said,  weakly,  only " 

"And  you  will  not  forget  the  promise  you  have 
made  me?" 

"No,"  she  answered,  and  then  she  gazed  anxiously 
toward  the  door.  "Let  us  go,"  she  said  imploringly; 
"it  is  all  so  hard  for  me  to  realize,  and  I  feel  so  very 
faint." 

The  two  went  slowly  down  the  hallway,  Mr.  Har 
rison  not  even  venturing  to  offer  her  his  arm;  out 
side  they  stood  for  a  minute  upon  the  high  steps, 
Helen  leaning  against  a  pillar  and  breathing  very 
hard.  She  dared  not  raise  her  eyes  to  the  man 
beside  her. 

"You  wish  to  go  now?"  he  asked,  gently. 

"Yes,  please,"  she  replied,  "I  think  so;  it  is  very 
late." 


KING  MIDAS 

Helen  scarcely  knew  what  happened  during  the 
drive  home,  for  she  passed  it  in  a  half -dazed  con 
dition,  almost  overwhelmed  by  what  she  had  done. 
She  answered  mechanically  to  all  Mr.  Harrison's 
remarks  about  his  arrangements  of  the  house  and 
his  plans  elsewhere,  but  all  reference  to  his  wealth 
seemed  powerless  to  waken  in  her  a  trace  of  the 
exultation  that  had  swept  her  away  before,  while 
every  allusion  to  their  personal  relationship  was 
like  the  touch  of  fire.  Her  companion  seemed  to 
divine  the  fact,  and  again  he  begged  her  anxiously 
not  to  forget  the  promise  she  had  given.  Helen 
answered  faintly  that  she  would  not;  but  the  words 
were  hard  for  her  to  say  and  it  was  an  infinite 
relief  to  her  to  see  Oakdale  again,  and  to  feel  that 
the  strain  would  soon  be  over,  for  the  time  at  any 
rate. 

"I  shall  stay  somewhere  in  the  neighborhood," 
said  Mr.  Harrison.  "You  will  let  me  see  you  often, 
Helen,  will  you  not?" 

"Yes,''  answered  Helen,  mechanically. 

"I  will  come  to-morrow,"  said  the  other,  "and 
take  you  driving  if  you  like;  I  promised  to  go  back 
and  lunch  with  your  aunt  to-day,  as  I  thought  I  was 
to  return  to  the  city."  In  a  moment  more  the  car 
riage  stopped  in  front  of  Helen's  home,  and  the 
girl,  without  waiting  for  anyone  to  assist  her, 
leaped  out  and  with  a  hasty  word  of  parting,  ran 
into  the  house.  She  heard  the  horses  trotting  away, 
and  then  the  door  closed  behind  her,  and  she  stood 
in  the  dark,  silent  hallway.  She  saw  no  one,  and 
after  gazing  about  her  for  a  moment  she  stole  into 
her  little  music-room  and  flung  herself  down  upon 

152 


KING  MIDAS 

the  couch,  where  she  lay  with  her  head  buried  in 
her  hands. 

It  was  a  long  time  afterwards  when  she  glanced 
up  again;  she  was  trembling  all  over,  and  her  face 
was  white. 

"In  Heaven's  name,  how  can  I  have  done  it?" 
she  whispered  hoarsely,  to  herself.  "How  can  I 
have  done  it?  And  what  am  I  to  do  now?" 


U  -        j    JN  ^ 

U^-,--^ 

Ky            —  J  —  J—  *- 

Nur      wer  der 

Min    -    ne  Macht         ent  - 

yi 

nfe 

~bI3  —  :    

P     = 

#?                            piu  P 

m-                          ] 

PP 

3rt    

nur    wer  der      Lie  -  be  Lust      ver  -  Jagf_ 


If1 


T"1 


153 


CHAPTER  VII 

"Wie  kommt's,  dass  du  so  traurig  bist, 

Da  alles  froh  erscheint? 
Man  sieht  dir's  an  den  Augen  an, 
Gewiss,   du   hast  geweint." 

HELEN  might  have  spent  the  afternoon  in  that 
situation,  tormenting  herself  with  the  doubts  and 
fears  that  filled  her  mind,  had  it  not  been  for  the 
fact  that  her  presence  was  discovered  by  Elizabeth, 
the  servant,  who  came  in  to  clean  the  room.  The 
latter  of  course  was  astonished  to  see  her,  but 
Helen  was  in  no  mood  to  vouchsafe  explanations. 

"Just  leave  me  alone,"  she  said.  "I  do  not  feel 
very  well.  And  don't  tell  father  I  am  here  yet." 

"Your  father,  Miss  Helen !"  exclaimed  the  woman ; 
"didn't  you  get  his  letter?" 

"What  letter?"  And  then  poor  Helen  was  made 
aware  of  another  trouble. 

"Mr.  Davis  wrote  Mrs.  Roberts  last  night," 
answered  the  servant.  "He's  gone  away." 

"Away!"  cried  the  girl.    "Where  to?" 

"To  New  York."  Then  the  woman  went  on  to 
explain  that  Mr.  Davis  had  been  invited  to  take  the 
place  of  a  friend  who  was  ill,  and  had  left  Oakdale 
for  a  week.  Helen  understood  that  the  letter  must 
have  reached  her  aunt  after  her  own  departure. 

"Dear  me!"  the  girl  exclaimed,  "How  unfortu 
nate!  I  don't  want  to  sta  here  alone." 


KING  MIDAS 

But  afterwards  it  flashed  over  her  that  if  she  did 
she  might  be  able  to  have  a  week  of  quiet  to  regain 
her  self-possession.  "Mr.  Harrison  couldn't  expect 
to  visit  me  if  I  were  alone,"  she  thought.  "But 
then,  I  suppose  he  could,  too,"  she  added  hastily, 
"if  I  am  engaged  to  him!  And  I  could  never  stand 
ihat!" 

"Miss  Helen,"  said  the  servant,  who  had  been 
standing  and  watching  her  anxiously,  "you  look 
very  ill;  is  anything  the  matter?" 

"Nothing,"  Helen  answered,  "only  I  want  to  rest. 
Leave  me  alone,  please,  Elizabeth." 

"Are  you  going  to  stay?"  the  other  asked;  "I 
must  fix  up  your  room." 

"I'll  have  to  stay,"  said  Helen.  "There's  nothing 
else  to  do." 

"Have  you  had  lunch  yet?" 

"No,  but  I  don't  want  any;  just  let  me  be,  please." 

Helen  expected  the  woman  to  protest,  but  she  did 
not.  She  turned  away,  and  the  girl  sank  back  upon 
the  couch  and  covered  her  face  again. 

"Everything  has  gone  wrong!"  she  groaned  to 
herself,  "I  know  I  shall  die  of  despair;  I  don't  want 
to  be»here  all  alone  with  Mr.  Harrison  coming  here. 
Dear  me,  .1  wish  I  had  never  seen  him!" 

And  Helen's  nervous  impatience  grew  upon  her, 
until  she  could  stand  it  no  more,  and  she  sprang 
up  and  began  pacing  swiftly  up  and  down  the  room ; 
she  was  still  doing  that  when  she  heard  a  step  in 
the  hall  and  saw  the  faithful  servant  in  the  door 
way  with  a  tray  of  luncheon.  Elizabeth  asked  no 
questions  about  matters  that  did  not  concern  her, 
but  she  regarded  this  as  her  province,  and  she 

'55 


KING  MIDAS 

would  pay  no  attention  to  Helen's  protests.  "You'll 
be  ill  if  you  don't  eat,"  she  vowed;  "you  look  paler 
than  I  ever  saw  you." 

And  so  the  girl  sat  down  to  attempt  to  please 
her,  Elizabeth  standing  by  and  talking  to  her  in  the 
meantime;  but  Helen  was  so  wrapped  up  in  her  own 
thoughts  that  she  scarcely  heard  a  word — until  the 
woman  chanced  to  ask  one  question:  "Did  you 
hear  about  Mr.  Arthur?" 

And  Helen  gazed  up  at  her.  "Hear  about  him?" 
she  said,  "hear  what  about  him?'' 

"He's  very  ill,"  said  Elizabeth.  Helen  gave  a 
start. 

"111!"  she  gasped. 

"Yes,"  said  Elizabeth,  "I  thought  you  must 
know;  Mr.  Davis  was  over  to  see  him  yesterday." 

"What  is  the  matter?" 

"The  doctor  said  he  must  have  been  fearfully  run 
down,  and  he  was  out  in  the  storm  and  caught  a 
cold;  and  he's  been  in  a  very  bad  way,  delirious  and 
unconscious  by  turns  for  two  or  three  days." 

Helen  was  staring  at  the  servant  in  a  dumt) 
fright.  "Tell  me,  Elizabeth,''  she  cried,  scarcely 
able  to  say  the  words,  "he  is  not  dangerously  ill?" 

"The  danger  is  over  now,"  the  other  answered, 
"so  the  doctor  said,  or  else  Mr.  Davis  would  never 
have  left ;  but  he's  in  a  bad  way  and  it  may  be  some 
time  before  he's  up  again." 

Perhaps  it  was  the  girl's  overwrought  condition 
that  made  her  more  easily  alarmed  just  then,  for 
she  was  trembling  all  over  as  she  heard  those 
words.  She  had  forgotten  Arthur  almost  entirely 
during  the  past  two  days,  and  he  came  back  to 

156 


KING  MIDAS 

her  at  that  moment  as  another  thorn  in  her  con 
science. 

"Mr.  Davis  said  he  wrote  you  to  go  and  see  him," 
went  on  the  servant;  "shall  you,  Miss  Helen?" 

"I — I  don't  know,"  said  Helen  faintly,  "I'll  see." 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  she  knew  that  she  almost  cer- 
lainly  would  not  go  to  see  Arthur  after  what  had 
just  passed;  even  to  have  him  find  out  about  it  was 
something  of  which  she  simply  could  not  think. 
She  felt  dread  enough  at  having  to  tell  her  father  of 
what  had  occurred  with  Mr.  Harrison,  and  to  see 
Arthur,  even  though  he  did  not  know  about  it,  she 
knew  was  not  in  her  power. 

"Perhaps  I  ought  not  to  have  told  you  about  it 
until  after  you  had  had  your  lunch;  you  are  not 
eating  anything,  Miss  Helen." 

"I  don't  want  anything,"  said  Helen,  mournfully; 
"take  it  now,  please,  Elizabeth,  and  please  do  not 
1  rouble  me  any  more.  I  have  a  great  deal  to  worry 
me." 

When  the  wroman  had  left  the  room,  Helen  shut 
the  door  and  then  sat  down  on  a  chair,  staring 
blankly  before  her;  there  was  a  mirror  just  across 
the  room,  and  her  own  image  caught  her  eye,  start 
ling  her  by  its  pale  and  haggard  look. 

"Dear  me,  it's  dreadful!"  she  cried  aloud,  spring 
ing  up.  "Why  did  I  let  people  trouble  me  in  this 
way?  I  can't  help  Arthur,  and  I  couldn't  have 
helped  him  in  the  beginning.  It's  every  bit  of  it 
his  own  fault,  and  I  don't  sec  why  I  should  let  it 
make  me  ill.  And  it's  the  same  with  the  other 
thing;  I  could  have  been  happy  without  all  that 

157 


KING  MIDAS 

wealth  if  I'd  never  seen  it,  and  now  I  know  I'll 
never  be  happy  again, — oh,  I  know  it!" 

And  Helen  began  once  more  pacing  up  and  down. 

"I  never  was  this  way  before  in  my  life,"  she  cried 
with  increasing  vexation,  "and  I  won't  have  it!" 

She  clenched  her  hands  angrily,  struggling  within 
herself  to  shake  off  what  was  tormenting  her.  But 
she  might  as  well  have  tried  to  shake  off  a  moun 
tain  from  her  shoulders;  hers  had  been  none  of  the 
stern  experience  that  gives  power  and  command 
to  the  character,  and  of  the  kind  of  energy  that  she 
needed  she  had  none,  and  not  even  a  thought  of  it. 
She  tried  only  to  forget  her  troubles  in  some  of  her 
old  pleasures,  and  when  she  found  that  she  could 
not  read,  and  that  the  music  she  tried  to  play 
sounded  hollow  and  meaningless,  she  could  only 
fling  herself  down  upon  the  sofa  with  a  moan. 
There,  realizing  her  own  impotence,  she  sank  into 
dull  despair,  unable  any  longer  to  realize  the  diffi 
culties  which  troubled  her,  and  with  only  one  cer 
tainty  in  her  mind — that  she  was  more  lost  and 
helpless  than  she  had  ever  thought  it  possible  for 
her  to  be. 

Time  is  not  a  thing  of  much  consequence  under 
such  circumstances,  and  it  was  a  couple  of  hours 
before  Helen  wa,s  aroused.  She  heard  a  carriage 
stop  at  the  door,  and  sprang  up  in  alarm,  with  the 
thought  that  it  might  be  Mr.  Harrison.  But  as  she 
stood  trembling  in  the  middle  of  the  room  she  heard 
a  voice  inquiring  for  her,  and  recognized  it  as  that 
of  her  aunt;  a,  moment  later  Mrs.  Roberts  rushed 
into  the  room,  and  catching  sight  of  Helen,  flung 
her  arms  eagerly  about  her. 

158 


KING  MIDAS 

"My  dear  girl,"  she  cried,  "Mr.  Harrison  has  just 
told  me  about  what  has  happened!"  And  then  as 
she  read  her  niece's  state  of  mind  in  her  counte 
nance,  she  added,  "I  expected  to  find  you  rejoicing, 
Helen;  what  is  the  matter?" 

In  point  of  fact  the  woman  had  known  pretty 
well  just  how  she  wrould  find  Helen,  and  having  no 
idea  of  leaving  her  to  her  own  tormenting  fancies, 
she  had  driven  over  the  moment  she  had  finished 
her  lunch.  "I  received  your  father's  letter,"  she 
said,  without  waiting  for  Helen  to  answer  her,  "so 
I  came  right  over  to  take  you  back." 

"To  take  me  back!"  echoed  Helen. 

"Yes,  my  dear;  you  don't  suppose  I  mean  to  leave 
you  here  all  alone  by  yourself,  do  you?  And  espe 
cially  at  such  a  time  as  this,  when  Mr.  Harrison 
wants  to  see  you?" 

"But,  Aunt  Polly,"  protested  Helen,  "I  don't 
want  to  see  him!" 

"Don't  want  to  see  him?  Why,  my  dear  girl,  you 
have  promised  to  be  his  wife!" 

Mrs.  Roberts  saw  Helen  shudder  slightly,  and  so 
she  went  on  quickly,  "He  is  going  to  stay  at  the 
hotel  in  the  village;  you  won't  find  it  the  same  as 
being  in  the  house  with  him.  But  I  do  assure  you, 
child,  there  never  was  a  man  more  madly  in  love 
than  he  is." 

"But,  Auntie,  dear,  that  Mr.  Howard,  too!"  pro 
tested  Helen,  trembling. 

"He  will  not  interfere  with  you,  for  he  never 
makes  any  noise;  and  you'll  not  know  he's  there. 
Of  course,  you  won't  play  the  piano,  but  you  can 
do  anything  else  you  choose.  And  Mr.  Harrison 

159 


KING  MIDAS 

will  probably  take  you  driving  every  day."  Then 
seeing  how  agitated  Helen  was,  her  aunt  put  her 
arms  around  her  again,  and  led  her  to  the  sofa. 
"Come,  Helen,"  she  said,  "I  don't  blame  you  for 
being  nervous.  I  know  just  how  you  feel,  my  dear." 

"Oh,  Aunt  Polly!"  moaned  the  girl.  "I  am  so 
wretched!" 

"I  know,"  laughed  Aunt  Polly;  "it's  the  idea  of 
having  to  marry  him,  I  suppose;  I  felt  the  very  same 
way  when  I  was  in  your  place.  But  you'll  find  that 
wears  off  very  quickly;  you'll  get  used  to  seeing 
him.  And  besides,  you  know  that  you've  got  to 
marry  him,  if  you  want  any  of  the  other  happiness !" 

And  Mrs.  Roberts  stopped  and  gazed  about  her. 
"Think,  for  instance,  my  dear/'  she  went  on,  "of 
having  to  be  content  with  this  dingy  little  room, 
after  having  seen  that  magnificent  place  of  his! 
Do  you  know,  Helen,  dear,  that  I  really  envy  you; 
and  it  seems  quite  ridiculous  to  come  over  here 
and  find  you  moping  around.  One  would  think  you 
were  a  hermit  and  did  not  care  anything  about 
life." 

"I  do  care  about  it,"  said  the  other,  "and  I  love 
beautiful  things  and  all;  but,  Aunt  Polly,  I  can't 
help  thinking  it's  dreadful  to  have  to  marry." 

"Come  and  learn  to  like  Mr.  Harrison,"  said  the 
other,  cheerfully.  "Helen,  you  are  really  too  weak 
to  ruin  your  peace  of  mind  in  this  way;  for  you 
could  see  if  you  chose  that  all  your  troubles  are  of 
your  own  making,  and  that  if  you  were  really  de 
termined  to  be  happy,  you  could  do  it.  Why  don't 
you,  dear?" 

160 


KING  MIDAS 

"I  don't  know,1'  protested  the  girl,  faintly;  "per 
haps  1  am  weak,  but  I  can't  help  it." 

"Of  course  not,"  laughed  the  other,  "if  you  spend 
your  afternoons  shut  up  in  a  half-dark  room  like 
this.  When  you  come  with  me  you  won't  be  able 
to  do  that  way;  and  I  tell  you  you'll  find  there's 
nothing  like  having  social  duties  and  an  appearance 
to  maintain  in  the  world  to  keep  one  cheerful.  If 
you  didn't  have  me  at  your  elbow  I  really  believe 
you'd  go  all  to  pieces." 

"I  fear  I  should,"  said  the  girl;  but  she  could  not 
help  laughing  as  she  allowed  herself  to  be  led  up 
stairs,  and  to  have  the  dust  bathed  from  her  face 
and  the  wrinkles  smoothed  from  her  brow.  In  the 
meantime  her  diplomatic  aunt  was  unobtrusively 
dropping  as  many  hints  as  she  could  think  of  to  stir 
Helen  to  a  sense  of  the  fact  that  she  had  suddenly 
become  a  person  of  consequence;  and  whether  it 
was  these  hints  or  merely  the  reaction  natural  to 
Helen,  it  is  certain  that  she  was  much  calmer  when 
she  went  down  to  the  carriage,  and  much  more  dis 
posed  to  resign  herself  to  meeting  Mr.  Harrison 
again.  And  Mrs.  Roberts  was  correspondingly  glad 
that  she  had  been  foreseeing  enough  to  come  and 
carry  her  away;  she  had  great  confidence  in  her 
ability  to  keep  Helen  from  foolish  worrying,  and  to 
interest  her  in  the  great  future  that  was  before  her. 

"And  then  it's  just  as  well  that  she  should  be  at 
my  house  where  she  can  find  the  comfort  that  she 
loves,"  she  reflected.  "I  can  see  that  she  learns  to 
love  it  more  every  day." 

The  great  thing,  of  course,  was  to  keep  her  ambi 
tion  as  much  awake  as  possible,  and  so  during  the 
ii  161 


KING  MIDAS 

drive  home  Mrs.  Roberts'  conversation  was  of  the 
excitement  which  the  announcement  of  Helen's  en 
gagement  would  create  in  the  social  world,  and  of 
the  brilliant  triumph  which  the  rest  of  her  life 
would  be,  and  of  the  vast  preparations  which  she 
was  to  make  for  it.  The  trousseau  soon  came  in  for 
mention  then;  and  what  woman  could  have  been 
indifferent  to  a  trousseau,  even  for  a  marriage  which 
she  dreaded?  After  that  the  conversation  was  no 
longer  a  task,  for  Helen's  animation  never  failed 
to  build  itself  up  when  it  was  once  awake;  she  was 
so  pleased  and  eager  that  the  drive  was  over  before 
she  knew  it,  and  before  she  had  had  time  for  even 
one  unpleasant  thought  about  meeting  Mr.  Har 
rison. 

It  proved  not  to  be  a  difficult  task  after  all,  for 
Mr.  Harrison  was  quiet  and  dignifie-d,  and  even  a 
little  reserved,  as  Helen  thought,  so  that  it  oc 
curred  to  her  that  perhaps  he  was  offended  at  the 
vehemence  with  which  she  had  repelled  him.  She 
did  not  know,  but  it  seemed  to  her  that  perhaps 
it  might  have  been  his  right  to  embrace  her  after 
she  had  promised  to  marry  him;  the  thought  made 
her  shudder,  yet  she  felt  sure  that  if  she  had  asked 
her  aunt  she  would  have  learned  that  she  was  very 
much  in  the  wrong  indeed.  Helen's  conscience  was 
very  restless  just  at  that  time,  and  it  was  pleasant 
to  be  able  to  lull  it  by  being  a  little  more  gracious 
and  kind  to  her  ardent  lover.  The  latter  of  course 
responded  joyfully,  so  that  the  remainder  of  the 
afternoon  passed  quite  pleasantly. 

When  Mr.  Roberts  arrived  and  had  been  ac 
quainted  with  the  tidings,  he  of  course  sought  the 

162 


KING  MIDAS 

first  opportunity  to  see  the  girl,  and  to  congratulate 
her  upon  her  wonderful  fortune.  Helen  had  always 
found  in  her  uncle  a  grave,  business-like  person, 
who  treated  her  with  indifference,  and  therefore 
inspired  her  with  awe;  it  was  not  a  little  stirring  to 
her  vanity  to  find  that  she  was  now  a  person  of 
sufficient  consequence  to  reverse  the  relation.  This 
fact  did  yet  a  little  more  to  make  her  realize  the 
vastness  of  her  sudden  conquest,  and  so  throughout 
dinner  she  was  almost  as  exulting  in  her  own  heart 
as  she  had  been  at  the  same  time  on  the  previous 
day. 

Her  animation  mounted  throughout  the  evening, 
for  Mr.  Harrison  and  her  aunt  talked  of  the  future 
— of  endless  trips  abroad,  and  of  palatial  houses 
and  royal  entertainments  at  home — until  the  girl 
was  completely  dazed.  Afterwards,  when  she  and 
Mr.  Harrison  were  left  alone,  Helen  fascinated  her 
companion  as  completely  as  ever,  and  was  radiant 
herself,  and  rejoicing.  As  if  to  cap  the  climax, 
Mr.  Harrison  broached  the  subject  of  a  trip  to  New 
York,  to  see  if  she  could  find  anything  at  the  vari 
ous  picture  dealers  to  suit  her  music  room,  and  also 
of  a  visit  to  Fairview  to  meet  an  architect  and  dis 
cuss  her  plan  there. 

The  girl  went  up  to  her  room  just  as  completely 
full  of  exultation  as  she  had  been  upon  the  night 
before,  yet  more  comfortable  in  the  conviction  that 
there  would  be  no  repetition  of  that  night's  worry. 
Yet  even  as  the  thought  occurred  to  her,  it  made 
her  tremble;  and  as  if  some  fiend  had  arranged  it 
especially  for  her  torment,  as  she  passed  down  the 
hall  a  nurse  came  silently  out  of  one  of  the  rooms, 

163 


KING  MIDAS 

and  through  the  half  open  doorway  Helen  fancied 
that  she  heard  a  low  moan.  She  shuddered  and 
darted  into  her  own  room  and  locked  the  door;  yet 
that  did  not  exclude  the  image  of  the  sufferer,  or 
keep  it  from  suggesting  a  train  of  thought  that 
plunged  the  girl  into  misery.  It  made  her  think  of 
Arthur,  and  of  the  haggard  look  that  had  been 
upon  his  face  when  he  left  her;  and  all  Helen's 
angry  assertions  that  it  was  not  her  fault  could 
not  keep  her  from  tormenting  herself  after  that. 
Always  the  fact  was  before  her  that  however  sick 
he  might  be,  even  dying,  she  could  never  bear  to 
see  him  again,  and  so  Arthur  became  the  embodi 
ment  of  her  awakening  conscience. 

The  result  was  that  the  girl  slept  very  little  that 
night,  spending  half  of  it  in  fact  alternately  sitting 
in  a  chair  and  pacing  the  room  in  agitation,  striv 
ing  in  vain  to  find  some  gleam  of  light  to  guide  her 
out  of  the  mazes  in  which  she  was  lost.  The  gray 
dawn  found  her  tossing  feverishly  about  upon  her 
pillow,  yearning  for  the  time  when  she  had  been 
happy,  and  upbraiding  herself  for  having  been 
drawn  into  her  present  trouble. 

When  she  arose  later  on,  she  was  more  pale  and 
wearied  than  she  had  been  upon  the  morning  be 
fore;  then  she  had  at  least  possessed  a  resolution, 
while  this  time  she  was  only  helpless  and  despair 
ing.  Thus  her  aunt  found  her  when  she  came  in  to 
greet  her,  and  the  dismay  of  the  worthy  matron 
may  be  imagined. 

However,  being  an  indefatigable  little  body,  she 
set  bravely  to  work  again;  first  of  all,  by  rebuking 
the  girl  for  her  weakness  she  managed  to  rouse 

164 


KING  MIDAS 

her  to  effort  once  more,  and  then  by  urging  the 
necessity  of  seeing  people  and  of  hiding  her  weak 
ness,  she  managed  to  obtain  at  last  a  semblance 
of  cheerfulness.  In  the  meantime  Mrs.  Roberts 
was  helping  her  to  dress  and  to  remove  all  traces 
of  her  unhappiness,  so  that  when  Helen  descended 
to  breakfast  she  had  received  her  first  lesson  in  one 
of  the  chief  tasks  of  the  social  regime: 

"Full  many  in  the  silent  night 
Have  wept  their  grief  away; 
And   in   the   morn  you   fancy 
Their  hearts  were  ever  gay." 

And  Helen  played  her  part  so  well  that  Mrs.  Rob 
erts  was  much  encouraged,  and  beamed  upon  her 
across  the  table.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  because  her 
natural  happiness  was  not  all  crushed,  and  because 
playing  a  part  was  not  easy  to  the  girl,  she  was 
very  soon  interested  in  the  various  plans  that  were 
being  discussed.  When  Mr.  Harrison  called  later 
on  and  proposed  a  drive,  she  accepted  with  genuine 
pleasure. 

To  be  sure,  she  found  it  a  trifle  less  thrilling  than 
on  the  day  before,  for  the  novelty  was  gone;  but 
that  fact  did  not  cause  her  much  worry.  In  all  her 
anticipations  of  the  pleasure  before  her,  it  had  oc 
curred  to  her  as  little  as  it  occurs  to  others  in  her 
situation  to  investigate  the  laws  of  the  senses 
through  which  the  pleasure  is  to  be  obtained. 
There  is  a  whole  moral  philosophy  to  be  extracted 
from  the  little  word  "ennui''  by  those  who  know; 
but  Helen  was  not  of  the  knowing.  She  believed 
that  when  she  was  tired  of  the  horses  she  could 

165 


KING  MIDAS 

delight  herself  with  her  beautiful  house,  and  that 
when  she  was  tired  of  the  house  she  could  have  a 
new  one.  All  her  life  she  had  been  deriving  ecstasy 
from  beautiful  things,  from  dresses,  and  flowers,  and 
books,  and  music,  and  pictures;  and  of  course  it 
was  only  necessary  to  have  an  infinite  quantity  of 
such  things  in  order  to  be  infinitely  happy.  The 
way  to  have  the  infinite  quantity  was  to  marry 
Mr.  Harrison,  or  at  any  rate  that  was  Helen's  view, 
and  she  was  becoming  more  and  more  irritated  be 
cause  it  did  not  work  well  in  practice,  and  more 
and  more  convinced  that  her  aunt  must  be  right  in 
blaming  her  weakness. 

In  the  meantime,  being  in  the  open  air  and  among 
all  the  things  that  she  loved,  she  was  bound  to  re 
joice  once  more;  and  rejoice  she  did,  not  even  allow 
ing  herself  to  be  hindered  by  Mr.  Harrison's  too 
obvious  failures  to  comprehend  her  best  remarks. 
Helen  argued  that  she  was  not  engaged  to  the  man 
because  of  his  cleverness,  and  that  when  she  had 
come  to  the  infinite  happiness  towards  which  she 
was  traveling  so  fast,  she  would  have  inspiration 
enough  for  two.  She  had  enough  for  the  present  to 
keep  them  both  happy  throughout  the  drive,  and 
when  she  returned  she  found  that  some  of  the  neigh 
bors  had  driven  over  to  see  her,  and  to  increase  her 
excitement  by  their  congratulations.  The  Machi 
avellian  Aunt  Polly  had  told  the  news  to  several 
friends  on  the  day  before,  knowing  full  well  that  it 
would  spread  during  .  the  night,  and  that  Helen 
would  have  her  first  taste  of  triumph  the  next  day. 

And  so  it  continued,  and  exactly  as  on  the  night 
before,  the  feverish  excitement  swept  Helen  on 

j66 


KING  MIDAS, 

until  the  bedtime  hour  arrived.  Then  she  went  up 
into  her  room  alone,  to  wrestle  with  the  same  dread 
ful  specter  as  before. 

The  story  of  that  day  was  the  story  of  all  that 
followed;  Helen  was  destined  to  find  that  she  might 
sweep  herself  away  upon  the  wings  of  her  ambition 
as  often  as  she  chose,  and  revel  all  she  pleased  in 
the  thought  of  Mr.  Harrison's  wealth;  but  when  the 
excitement  was  over,  and  she  came  to  be  all  alone, 
she  could  think  only  of  the  one  dreadful  fact  of  the 
necessity  of  marrying  him.  She  was  paying  a 
Faustus  price  for  her  happiness;  and  in  the  night 
time  the  price  stared  at  her,  and  turned  all  her 
happiness  to  misery. 

A  state  of  mind  such  as  this  was  so  alien  to  Helen 
that  it  would  have  been  strange  indeed  if  she  had 
sunk  into  it  without  protest  and  rebellion;  as  day 
after  day  passed,  and  the  misery  continued,  her 
dissatisfaction  with  everything  about  her  built 
itself  into  a  climax;  more  and  more  plainly  she 
was  coming  to  see  the  widening  of  the  gulf  between 
the  phantom  she  was  pursuing  and  the  place,  where 
she  stood.  Finally  there  came  one  day,  nearly  a 
week  after  her  engagement,  when  Helen  was  so 
exhausted  and  so  wretched  that  she  had  made  up 
her  mind  to  remain  in  her  room,  and  had  withstood 
all  her  aunt's  attempts,  to  dissuade  her.  She  had 
passed  the  morning  in  bed,  between  equally  vain 
attempts  to  become  interested  in  a  book  and  to 
make  up  for  the  sleep  she  had  missed  during  the 
night,  and  was  just  about  giving  up  both  in  despair 
when  the  maid  entered  to  say  that  Elizabeth  wished 
to  see  her.  Helen  gave  a  start,  for  she  knew  that 

167 


KING  MIDAS 

something  must  be  wrong;  when  the  woman  en 
tered  she  asked  breathlessly  what  it  was. 

"It's  about  Mr.  Arthur,"  was  the  hurried  reply, 
and  Helen  turned  paler  than  ever,  and  clutched 
the  bedclothing  in  her  trembling  hands. 

"What  is  it?''  she  cried. 

"Why  you  know,  Miss  Helen,"  said  Elizabeth, 
"your  father  wrote  me  to  go  and  see  him  whenever 
I  could,  and  .I've  just  come  from  there  this  morn 
ing." 

"And  how  is  he?" 

"He  looked  dreadful,  but  he  had  gotten  up  to-day, 
and  he  was  sitting  by  the  window  when  I  came  in. 
He  was  hardly  a  shadow  of  himself." 

Helen  was  trembling.  "You  have  not  been  to  see 
him?"  asked  the  woman. 

"No,"  said  Helen,  faintly,  "I "  and  then  she 

stopped. 

"Why  not?"  Elizabeth  inquired  anxiously. 

"He  did  not  ask  for  me,  did  he?"  asked  the  girl, 
scarcely  able  to  utter  the  words. 

"No,"  said  the  woman,  "but  you  know,  everybody 
told  me  you  were  engaged  to  a  rich  man " 

And  Helen  started  forward  with  a  cry.  "Eliza 
beth!"  she  gasped,  "you — you  didn't !" 

"Yes,"  said  the  other,  "I  told  him."  And  then 
seeing  the  girl's  look  of  terror,  she  stopped  short. 
Helen  stared  at  her  for  fully  half  a  minute  with 
out  uttering  a  word;  and  then  the  woman  went  on, 
slowly,  "It  was  very  dreadful,  Miss  Helen;  he  went 
almost  crazy,  and  I  was  so  frightened  that  I  didn't 
know  what  I  should  do.  Please  tell  me  what  is  the 
matter." 

168 


KING  MIDAS 

Helen  was  still  gazing  dumbly  at  the  woman, 
seeming  not  to  have  heard  the  last  question.  "I — I 
can't  tell  you,"  she  said,  when  it  was  repeated 
again;  "you  ought  not  to  have  told  him,  Elizabeth." 

"Miss  Helen,-'  cried  the  woman,  anxiously,  "you 
must  do  something!  For  I  am  sure  that  I  know 
what  is  the  matter;  he  loves  you,  and  you  must 
know  it,  too.  And  it  will  certainly  kill  him;  weak 
as  he  was,  he  rushed  out  of  the  house,  and  I  could 
not  find  him  anywhere.  Miss  Helen,  you  must  go 
and  see  him!" 

The  girl  sat  with  the  same  look  of  helpless  fright 
upon  her  face,  and  with  her  hands  clenched  tightly 
between  her  knees;  the  other  went  on  talking  hur 
riedly,  but  Helen  scarcely  heard  anything  after 
that;  her  mind  was  too  full  of  its  own  thoughts.  It 
was  several  minutes  more  before  she  even  noticed 
that  the  woman  was  still  insisting  that  she  must 
go  to  see  Artheur.  "Please  leave  me  now!"  she 
cried  wildly;  "please  leave  me!  I  cannot  explain 
anything, — I  want  to  be  alone!"  And  when  the  door 
was  shut  she  became  once  more  dumb  and  motion 
less,  staring  blankly  ahead  of  her,  a  helpless  victim 
of  her  own  wretched  thoughts. 

"That  is  the  end  of  it,"  she  groaned  to  herself; 
"oh,  that  is  the  end  of  it!" 


.^j^.—-— _  — ^ — 

Winkt     dirnicht    hold      die     heh    -    re  Burg? 

169 


CHAPTER  VIII 

Thou    would'st    be    happy, 

Endlessly    happy, 

Or  endlessly  wretched. 

HELEN  was  quite  powerless  to  do  anything  what 
ever  after  that  last  piece  of  misfortune;  it  seemed 
as  if  she  could  have  remained  just  where  she  was 
for  hours,  shuddering  at  the  sight  of  what  was  hap 
pening,  yet  utterly  helpless  before  it.  The  world 
was  taking  a  very  serious  aspect  indeed  to  the 
bright  and  laughing  girl,  who  had  thought  of  it  as 
the  home  of  birds  and  flowers;  yet  she  knew  not 
what  to  make  of  the  change,  or  how  she  was  to 
blame  for  it,  and  she  could  only  sit  still  and  tremble. 
She  was  in  the  same  position  and  the  same  state  of 
mind  when  her  aunt  entered  the  room  some  minutes 
later. 

Mrs.  Roberts  stood  watching  her  silently,  and 
then  as  Helen  turned  her  gaze  of  pleading  misery 
upon  her,  she  came  forward  and  sat  down  in  a  chair 
by  the  bedside,  and  fixed  her  keen  eyes  upon  the 
girl. 

"Oh,  Aunt  Polly!"  cried  Helen;  "what  am  I  to 
do?  I  am  so  wretched!" 

"I  have  just  been  talking  to  Elizabeth,"  said  Mrs. 
Roberts,  with  some  sternness,  "and  she's  been  tell 
ing  you  about  Arthur — is  that  what  is  the  matter 
with  you,  Helen?" 

170 


KING  MIDAS 

"Yes,"  was  the  trembling  response,  "what  can  I 
do?" 

"Tell  me,  Helen,  in  the  first  place,"  demanded  the 
other.  "When  you  saw  Arthur  that  day  in  the 
woods,  what  did  you  do?  Did  you  make  him  any 
promises?" 

"No,  Auntie." 

"Did  you  hold  out  any  hopes  to  him?  Did  .VWR 
say  anything  to  him  at  all  about  love?" 

"I — I  told  him  it  was  impossible,"  said  Helen, 
eagerly,  clutching  at  that  little  crumb  of  comfort. 

"Then  in  Heaven's  name,  child,"  cried  the  other 
in  amazement,  "what  is  the  matter  with  you?  If 
Arthur  chooses  to  carry  on  in  this  fashion,  why  in 
the  world  should  you  punish  yourself  in  this  hor 
rible  way?  What  is  the  matter  with  you,  Helen? 
Are  you  responsible  to  him  for  your  marriage?  I 
don't  know  which  is  the  most  absurd,  the  boy's  be 
havior,  or  your  worrying  about  it." 

"But,  Auntie,"  stammered  the  girl,  "he  is  so  ill— 
he  might  die!" 

"Die,  bosh!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Roberts;  "he  fright 
ened  Elizabeth  by  his  ravings;  it  is  the  most  ab 
surd  nonsense, — he  a  penniless  school-teacher,  and 
the  Lord  only  knows  what  besides!  I  only  wish 
I'd  been  there  to  talk  to  him,  for  I  don't  think  he'd 
have  frightened  me!  What  in  the  world  do  you 
suppose  he  wants,  anyway?  Is  he  mad  enough  to 
expect  you  to  marry  him?" 

"I  don't  know,  Aunt  Polly,"  said  Helen,  weakly. 

"I'd  never  have  believed  that  Arthur  could  be 
capable  of  anything  so  preposterous  as  this  be 
havior,"  vowed  Mrs.  Roberts;  "and  then  to  come 

171 


KING  MIDAS 

up  here  and  find  you  wearing  yourself  to  a  skeleton 
about  it!" 

"It  isn't  only  that,  Auntie,"  protested  Helen, 
"there  is  so  much  else;  I  am  miserable!" 

"Yes,"  said  the  other,  grimly;  "I  see  it  as  well 
as  you,  and  there's  just  about  as  much  reason  in  any 
of  it  as  in  the  matter  of  Arthur."  Then  Mrs.  Rob 
erts  moved  her  chair  nearer,  and  after  gazing  at 
Helen  for  a  moment,  began  again.  "I've  been  mean 
ing  to  say  something  to  you,  and  it  might  just  as 
well  be  said  now.  For  all  this  matter  is  coming  to 
a  climax,  Helen;  it  can't  go  on  this  way  very  much 
longer,  for  you'll  kill  yourself.  It's  got  to  be  settled 
one  way  or  the  other,  once  and  for  all."  And  Mrs. 
Roberts  stopped  and  took  a  deep  breath,  preparing 
for  one  more  struggle;  Helen  still  gazed  at  her 
helplessly. 

"I'm  not  going  to  say  anything  more  about  Ar 
thur,"  declared  the  woman;  "if  you  choose  to  tor 
ment  yourself  about  such  absurdities,  I  can't  help 
it.  Arthur's  behavior  is  not  the  least  your  fault, 
and  you  know  it;  but  all  the  other  trouble  is  your 
fault,  and  there's  nobody  else  to  blame.  For  the 
question  is  just  as  simple  as  the  day,  Helen,  and  you 
must  see  it  and  decide  it;  you've  got  to  choose  be 
tween  one  of  two  things,  either  to  marry  Mr.  Harri 
son  or  to  give  him  up;  and  there's  no  excuse  for 
your  hesitating  and  tormenting  yourself  one  day 
longer." 

Then  the  indomitable  woman  set  to  work  at  her 
old  task  of  conjuring  up  before  the  girl's  eyes  all 
the  allurements  that  had  so  often  made  her  heart 
throb;  she.  pictured  Fairview  and  all  its  luxuries, 

172 


KING  MIDAS 

and  the  admiration  and  power  that  must  be  hers 
when  she  was  mistress  of  it;  and  she  mentioned 
every  other  source  of  pleasure  that  she  knew  would 
stir  Helen's  eager  thirst.  After  having  hammered 
away  at  that  theme  until  she  saw  signs  of  the  effect 
she  desired,  she  turned  to  the  other  side  of  the 
picture. 

"Helen,''  she  demanded,  "is  it  really  possible  for 
you  to  think  of  giving  up  these  things  and  going 
back  to  live  in  that  miserable  little  house  at  Oak- 
dale?  Can  you  not  see  that  you  would  be  simply 
burying  yourself  alive?  You  might  just  as  well 
be  as  ugly  as  those  horrible  Nelson  girls  across  the 
way.  Helen,  you  know  you  belong  to  a  different  sta 
tion  in  life  than  those  people!  You  know  you  have 
a  right  to  some  of  the  beautiful  things  in  the  world, 
and  you  know  that  after  this  vision  of  everything 
perfect  that  you  have  seen,  you  can  never  possibly 
be  happy  in  your  ignorant  girlish  way  again.  You 
have  promised  Mr.  Harrison  to  marry  him,  and 
made  him  go  to  all  the  expense  that  he  has;  and 
you've  told  everybody  you  know,  and  all  the  world 
is  talking  about  your  triumph;  and  you've  had  Mr. 
Roberts  go  to  all  the  trouble  he  has  about  your 
trousseau, — surely,  Helen,  you  cannot  dream  of 
changing  your  mind  and  giving  all  this  up.  It  is 
ridiculous  to  talk  about  it." 

"I  don't  want  to  give  it  up,"  protested  the  girl, 
moaning,  "but,  oh,  I  can't— 

"I  know!"  exclaimed  the  other.  "I've  heard  all 
that  a  thousand  times.  Don't  you  see,  Helen,  that 
you've  simply  got  to  marry  him!  There  is  no  other 
possibility  to  think  of,  and  all  of  y/mr  weakness 

i73 


KING  MIDAS 

is  that  you  don't  perceive  that  fact,  and  make  up 
your  mind  to  it.  Just  see  how  absurd  you  are,  to 
make  yourself  ill  in  this  way." 

''But  I  can't  help  it,  Auntie,  indeed  I  can't!" 

"You  could  help  it  if  you  wanted  to,"  vowed  the 
other.  "I  am  quite  disgusted  with  you.  I  have  told 
you  a  thousand  times  that  this  is  all  an  imaginary 
terror  that  you  are  conjuring  up  for  yourself,  to 
ruin  your  health  and  happiness.  When  you  have 
married  him  you  will  see  that  it's  just  as  I  tell  you, 
and  you'll  laugh  at  yourself  for  feeling  as  you  did." 

"But  it's  in  the,  meantime,  Aunt  Polly — it's  hav 
ing  to  think  about  it  that  frightens  me." 

"Well,  let  me  tell  you  one  thing,"  said  Mrs.  Rob 
erts;  "if  I  found  that  I  couldn't  cure  myself  of  such 
weakness  as  this,  sooner  than  let  it  ruin  my  life  and 
make  everyone  about  me  wretched,  I'd  settle  the 
matter  right  now  and  forever;  I'd  marry  him  within 
a  week,  Helen!"  And  the  resolute  little  woman 
clenched  her  hands  grimly.  "Yes,  I  would,"  she  ex 
claimed,  "and  if  I  found  I  hadn't  strength  enough 
to  hold  my  resolution,  I'd  marry  him  to-morrow, 
and  there'd  be  an  end  to  it!" 

"You  don't  realize,  Helen,  how  you  treat  Mr. 
Harrison,"  she  went  on,  as  the  girl  shuddered; 
"and  how  patient  he  is.  You'd  not  find  many  men 
like  him  in  that  respect,  my  dear.  For  he's  madly 
in  love  with  you,  and  you  treat  him  as  coldly  as  if 
he  were  a  stranger.  I  can  see  that,  for  I  watch 
you,  and  I  can  see  how  it  offends  him.  You  have 
promised  to  be  his  wife,  Helen,  and  yet  you  be 
have  in  this  ridiculous  way.  You  are  making  your 
self  ill,  and  you  look  years  older  every  day,  yet 


KING  MIDAS 

you  make  not  the  least  attempt  to  conquer  your 
self." 

So  she  went  on,  and  Helen  began  to  feel  more  and 
more  that  she  was  doing  a  very  great  wrong  in 
deed.  Mrs.  Roberts'  sharp  questioning  finally  drew 
from  her  the  story  of  her  reception  of  Mr.  Harri 
son's  one  kiss,  and  Helen  was  made  to  seem  quite 
ridiculous  and  even  rude  in  her  own  eyes;  her  aunt 
lectured  her  with  such  unaccustomed  sternness 
that  she  was  completely  frightened,  and  came  to 
look  upon  her  action  as  the  cause  of  all  the  rest  of 
her  misery. 

"It's  precisely  on  that  a.ccount  that  you  still  re 
gard  him  as  a  stranger,''  Mrs.  Roberts  vowed;  "of 
course  he  makes  no  more  advances,  and  you  might 
go  on  forever  in  that  way."  Helen  promised  that 
the  next  time  she  was  alone  with  Mr.  Harrison  she 
would  apologize  for  her  rudeness,  and  treat  him  in 
a  different  manner. 

"I  wish,"  Mi*s.  Roberts  went  on,  "that  I  could 
only  make  you  see  as  plainly  as  I  see,  Helen,  how 
very  absurd  your  conduct  is.  Day  by  day  you  are 
filling  your  mind  with  the  thought  of  the  triumph 
that  is  to  be  yours,  so  that  it  takes  hold  of  you 
and  becomes  all  your  life  to  you;  and  all  the  time 
you  know  that  to  possess  it  there  is  one  thing  which 
you  have  got  to  do.  And  instead  of  realizing  the 
fact  and  reconciling  yourself  to  it,  you  sit  down  and 
torment  yourself  as  if  you  were  a  creature  without 
reason  or  will.  Can  you  not  see  that  you  must  be 
wretched?" 

"Yes,  I  see,"  said  Helen,  weakly. 

"You  see  it,  but  you  make  no  effort  to  do  any- 

175 


KING  MIDAS 

thing  else!  You  make  me  almost  give  you  up  in 
despair.  You  will  not  see  that  this  weakness  has 
only  to  be  conquered  once,  and  that  then  your  life 
can  be  happy!" 

"But,  Auntie,  dear,"  exclaimed  Helen,  "it  is  so 
hard!" 

"Anything  in  life  would  be  hard  for  a  person  who 
had  no  more  resolution  than  you,"  responded  the 
other.  "Because  you  know  nothing  about  the  world, 
you  fancy  you  are  doing  something  very  unusual 
and  dreadful;  but  I  assure  you  it's  what  every  girl 
has  to  do  when  she  marries  in  society.  And  there's 
no  one  of  them  but  would  laugh  at  your  behavior; 
you  just  give  Mr.  Harrison  up,  and  see  how  long 
it  would  be  before  somebody  else  would  take  him! 
Oh,  child,  how  I  wish  I  could  give  you  a  little  of 
my  energy;  you  would  go  to  the  life  that  is  before 
you  in  a  very  different  way,  I  promise  you!  For 
really  the  only  way  that  you  can  have  any  happi 
ness  in  the  world  is  to  be  strong  and  take  it,  and  if 
you  once  had  a  purpose  and  some  determination 
you  would  feel  like  a  different  person.  Make  up 
your  mind  what  you  wish  to  do,  Helen,  and  go  and 
do  it,  and  take  hold  of  yourself  and  master  your 
self,  and  show  what  you  are  made  of!" 

Aunt  Polly  was  quite  sublime  as  she  delivered 
that  little  exordium;  and  to  the  girl,  anxious  as 
she  was  for  her  old  strength  and  happiness,  the 
words  were  like  music.  They  made  her  blood  flow 
again,  and  there  was  a  light  in  her  eyes. 

"Oh,  Auntie,"  she  said,  "I'll  try  to." 

"Try!"  echoed  the  other,  "what  comes  of  all  your 
trying?  You  have  been  reveling  for  a  week  in 

176 


KING  MIDAS 

visions  of  what  is  to  be  yours;  and  that  ought 
surely  to  have  been  enough  time  for  you  to  make 
up  your  mind;  and  yet  every  time  that  I  find  you 
alone,  all  your  resolution  is  gone;  you  simply  have 
no  strength,  Helen!" 

"Oh,  I  will  have  it!"  cried  the  girl;  "I  don't  mean 
to  do  this  way  any  more;  I  never  saw  it  so  plainly." 

"You  see  it  now,  because  Fm  talking  to  you,  and 
you  always  do  see  it  then.  But  I  should  think  the 
very  terror  of  what  you  have  suffered  would  serve 
as  a  motive,  and  make  you  quite  desperate.  Can 
you  not  see  that  your  very  safety  depends  upon 
your  taking  this  resolution  and  keeping  it,  and  not 
letting  go  of  it,  no  matter  what  happens?  From 
what  I've  seen  of  you,  Helen,  I  know  that  if  you  do 
not  summon  all  your  energies  together,  and  fling 
aside  every  purpose  but  this,  and  act  upon  it  now?, 
while  you  feel  it  so  keenly,  you  will  surely  fail. 
For  anybody  can  withstand  a  temptation  for  a 
while,  when  his  mind  is  made  up;  all  the  trouble 
is  in  keeping  it  made  up  for  a  long  time.  I  tell  you 
if  I  found  I  was  losing,  sooner  than  surrender  I 
would  do  anything,  absolutely  anything!" 

Mrs.  Roberts  had  many  more  words  of  that  heroic 
kind;  she  was  a  vigorous  little  body,  and  she  was 
quite  on  fire  with  enthusiasm  just  then,  and  with 
zeal  for  the  consummation  of  the  great  triumph. 
Perhaps  there  is  no  occupation  of  men  quite  with 
out  its  poetry,  and  even  a  society  leader  may  attain 
to  the  sublime  in  her  devotion  to  life  as  she  sees  it. 
Besides  that  the  over-zealous  woman  was  exalted 
to  eloquence  just  then  by  a  feeling  that  she  was 
nearer  her  goal  than  ever  before,  and  that  she  had 
12  177 


KING  MIDAS 

only  to  spur  Helen  on  and  keep  her  in  her  present 
glow  to  clinch  the  matter;  for  the  girl  was  very 
much  excited  indeed,  and  showed  both  by  what 
she  said  and  by  the  change  in  her  behavior  that 
she  was  determined  to  have  an  end  to  her  own 
wretchedness  and  to  conquer  her  shrinking  from 
her  future  husband  at  any  cost.  During  all  the 
time  that  she  was  dressing,  her  aunt  was  stirring 
her  resolution  with  the  same  appeal,  so  that  Helen 
felt  that  she  had  never  seen  her  course  so  clearly 
before,  or  had  so  much  resolution  to  follow  it.  She 
spread  out  her  arms  and  drank  deep  breaths  of 
relief  because  she  was  free  from  her  misery,  and 
knew  how  to  keep  so;  and  at  the  same  time,  be 
cause  she  still  felt  tremblings  of  fear,  she  clenched 
her  hands  in  grim  earnestness.  When  she  was 
ready  to  descend  she  was  flushed  and  trembling 
with  excitement,  and  quite  full  of  her  resolution. 
"She  won't  have  to  go  very  far,"  Mrs.  Roberts 
mused,  "for  the  man  is  madly  in  love  with  her." 

"I  want  you  to  look  as  beautiful  as  you  can, 
dear/'  she  said  aloud,  by  way  of  changing  the  sub 
ject;  "besides  Mr.  Harrison,  there'll  be  another 
visitor  at  lunch  to-day." 

"A  stranger?"  echoed  Helen. 

"You  remember,  dear,  when  I  told  you  of  Mr. 
Howard  I  spoke  of  a  third  person  who  was  coming 
— Lieutenant  Maynard?" 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  the  girl;  "is  he  here?" 

"Just  until  the  late  train  this  evening,"  answered 
the  other.  "He  got  his  leave  as  he  expected,  but  of 
course  he  didn't  want  to  come  while  Mr.  Howard 
was  so  ill," 

178 


KING  MIDAS 

Helen  remembered  with  a  start  having  heard 
someone  sa,y  that  Mr.  Howard  was  better.  "Auntie," 
she  cried,  "he  won't  be  at  lunch,  will  he?  I  don't 
want  to  see  him/' 

"He  won't,  dear,"  was  the  reply;  "the  doctor  said 
he  could  leave  his  room  to-day,  but  it  will  be  after 
wards,  when  you  have  gone  driving  with  Mr. 
Harrison." 

"And  will  he  leave  soon?"  asked  Helen,  shud 
dering;  the  mention  of  the  invalid's  name  had  in 
stantly  brought  to  her  mind  the  thought  of  Arthur. 

"He  wrill  leave  to-morrow,  I  presume;  he  prob 
ably  knows  he  has  caused  us  trouble  enough," 
answered  Mrs.  Roberts;  and  then  reading  Helen's 
thought,  and  seeing  a  sign  upon  her  face  of  the  old 
worry,  she  made  haste  to  lead  her  down  the  stairs. 

Helen  found  Mr.  Harrison  in  conversation  with  a 
tall,  distinguished-looking  man  in  naval  uniform,  to 
whom  she  was  introduced  by  her  aunt;  the  girl 
saw  that  the  officer  admired  her,  which  was  only 
another  stimulant  to  her  energies,  so  that  she 
was  at  her  cleverest  during  the  meal  that  followed. 
She  accepted  the  invitation  of  Mr.  Harrison  to  go 
with  him  to  Fairview  during  the  afternoon,  and 
after  having  been  in  her  room  all  the  morning,  she 
was  looking  forward  to  the  drive  with  no  little 
pleasure,  as  also  to  the  meeting  with  the  architect 
whom  Mr.  Harrison  said  would  be  there. 

It  seemed  once  as  if  the  plan  were  to  be  inter 
rupted,  and  as  if  her  excitement  and  resolution 
were  to  come  to  naught,  for  a  telegram  arrived 
for  Mr.  Harrison,  and  he  announced  that  he  was 
•  •ailed  away  to  New  York  upon  some  business. 


KING  MIDAS 

But  as  it  proved,  this  was  only  another  circum 
stance  to  urge  her  on  in  carrying  out  her  defiant 
resolution,  for  Mr.  Harrison  added  that  he  would 
not  have  to  leave  until  the  evening,  and  her  aunt 
gazed  at  the  girl  significantly,  to  remind  her  of 
how  little  time  there  was.  Helen  felt  her  heart 
give  a  sudden  leap,  and  felt  a  disagreeable  trem 
bling  seize  upon  her;  her  animation  became  more 
feverish  yet  in  consequence. 

After  the  luncheon,  when  she  ran  up  for  her  hat 
and  gloves,  her  aunt  followed  her,  but  Helen  shook 
her  off  with  a  laughing  assurance  that  everything 
would  be  all  right,  and  then  ran  out  into  the  hall 
way;  she  did  not  go  on,  however,  for  something 
that  she  saw  caused  her  to  spring  quickly  back,  and 
turn  pale. 

"What  is  it?"  whispered  her  aunt,  as  Helen  put 
her  finger  to  her  lips. 

"It's  her  replied  the  girl,  shuddering;  "wait!" 

"He"  was  the  unfortunate  invalid,  who  was  pass 
ing  down  the  hallway  upon  the  arm  of  Lieutenant 
Maynard;  Helen  shook  her  head  at  all  her  aunt's 
laughing  protests,  and  could  not  be  induced  to  leave 
the  room  until  the  two  had  passed  on;  then  she 
ran  down,  and  leaving  the  house  by  another  door, 
sprang  into  the  carriage  with  Mr.  Harrison  and  was 
whirled  away,  waving  a  laughing  good-by  to  her 
aunt. 

The  fresh  air  and  the  swift  motion  soon  com 
pleted  the  reaction  from  Helen's  morning  unhap- 
piness;  and  as  generally  happened  when  she  was 
much  excited,  her  imagination  carried  her  away  in 
one  of  her  wild  flights  of  joy,  so  that  her  companion 

180 


KING  MIDAS 

was  as  much  lost  as  ever  in  admiration  and  delight. 
Helen  told  him  countless  stories,  and  made  count 
less  half -comprehended  witticisms,  and  darted  a 
great  many  mischievous  glances  which  were  com 
prehended  much  better;  when  they  had  passed 
within  the  gates  of  Fairview,  being  on  private  land 
she  felt  even  less  need  of  restraint,  and  sang  ul)ich, 
theure  Halle,  griiss'  ich  wieder!"  and  laughed  at 
her  own  cleverness  quite  as  much  as  if  her  com 
panion  had  understood  it  all. 

After  that  it  was  a  new  delight  to  discover  that 
work  was  progressing  rapidly  upon  the  trimming 
of  the  forest  and  the  turning  of  the  grass-grown 
road  into  a  broad  avenue;  likewise  the  "hay  crop'' 
was  in,  and  the  lawn  plowed  and  raked  and  ready 
for  grass  seed,  and  the  undesirable  part  of  the  old 
furniture  carted  away, — all  of  which  things  Helen 
knew  had  been  done  according  to  her  commands. 
And  scarcely  had  all  this  been  appreciated  prop 
erly  before  the  architect  arrived;  Helen  was  pleased 
with  him  because  for  one  thing  he  was  evidently 
very  much  impressed  by  her  beauty,  and  for  an 
other  because  he  entered  so  understandingly  into 
all  her  ideas.  He  and  the  girl  spent  a  couple  of  the 
happiest  hours  in  discussing  the  details  of  the  won 
derful  music  room,  a  thing  which  seemed  to  her 
more  full  of  delightful  possibilities  than  any  other 
in  all  her  radiant  future;  it  was  a  sort  of  a  child's 
dream  to  her,  with  a  fairy  godmother  to  make  it 
real,  and  her  imagination  ran  riot  in  a  vision  of 
banks  of  flowers,  and  of  paintings  of  all  things  that 
embody  the  joys  of  music,  the  "shapes  that  haunt 
thought's  wildernesses."  At  night  the  whole  was 

181 


KING  MIDAS 

to  be  illuminated  in  such  a  way  as  to  give  these 
verisimilitude,  and  in  the  daytime  it  would  be  no 
less  beautiful,  because  it  was  to  be  almost  all  glass 
upon  two  sides.  Helen  was  rejoiced  that  the 
architect  realized  the  importance  of  the  fact  that 
"a  music  room  ought  to  be  out  of  doors;"  and  then 
as  she  made  the  further  welcome  discovery  that 
the  moon  would  shine  into  it,  she  vowed  eagerly 
that  there  would  be  no  lights  at  all  in  her  music 
room  at  those  times.  Afterwards  she  told  a  funny 
story  of  how  Schumann  had  been  wont  to  improvise 
under  such  circumstances,  until  his  next-door  neigh 
bor  was  so  struck  by  the  romance  of  it  that  he 
proceeded  to  imitate  it,  and  to  play  somebody  or 
other's  technical  studies  whenever  the  moon  rose; 
at  which  narrative  Helen  and  the  architect  laughed 
very  heartily,  and  Mr.  Harrison  with  them,  though 
he  would  not  have  known  the  difference  between 
a  technical  study  and  the  "Moonlight  Sonata." 

Altogether,  Helen  was  about  as  happy  as 
ever  throughout  that  afternoon,  tho  one  who 
watched  her  closely  might  have  thought  there  was 
something  nervous  about  her  animation,  especially 
later  on,  when  the  talk  with  the  architect  was  near- 
ing  its  end;  Helen's  eyes  had  once  or  twice  wan 
dered  uneasily  about  the  room,  and  when  finally 
the  man  rose  to  leave,  she  asked  him  with  a  sud 
den  desperate  resolution  to  look  over  the  rest  of 
the  rooms  and  see  what  he  thought  of  her  sugges 
tions.  The  latter  expressed  himself  as  pleased  to 
oblige  her,  but  he  would  probably  have  been  some 
what  chagrined  had  he  known  how  little  Helen 
really  attended  to  his  remarks;  her  mind  was  in  a 

182 


KING  MIDAS 

whirl,  and  all  that  he  said  sounded  distant  and 
vague;  her  one  wish  was  that  he  might  stay  and 
give  her  time  to  think. 

Hut  Helen  found  the  uselessness  of  shrinking, 
and  the  time  came  at  last  when  she  saw  to  her  de 
spair  that  there  was  no  more  to  say,  and  that  the 
man  must  go.  In  a  few  minutes  more  he  was 
actually  gone,  and  she  was  left  all  alone  in  the 
great  house  with  Mr.  Harrison. 

The  two  went  back  into  the  dining  room,  where 
Mr.  Harrison  stood  leaning  his  hand  upon  the 
table,  and  Helen  stood  in  front  of  him,  her  lips 
trembling.  Twice  she  made  a  faint  attempt  to 
speak,  and  then  she  turned  and  began  pacing  up 
and  down  the  room  in  agitation.  Mr.  Harrison  was 
watching  her,  seeing  that  there  was  something  on 
her  mind,  and  also  that  her  emotion  made  her  more 
beautiful  and  more  disturbing  to  him  than  ever. 

At  last  Helen  went  and  sat  down  upon  a  sofa  at 
one  side,  and  clenching  her  hands  very  tightly  about 
her  knees,  looked  up  at  him  and  said,  in  a  faint 
voice,  "I  had  something  to  say  to  you,  Mr.  Harri 
son."  Then  she  stopped,  and  her  eyes  fell,  and  her 
breath  came  very  hard. 

"What  is  it,  dear?"  asked  Mr.  Harrison  gently. 

And  Helen's  lips  trembled  more  than  ever,  and 
her  voice  sank  still  lower  as  she  said,  UI — I  don't 
know  how  to  begin." 

The  other  was  silent  for  a  few  moments  more, 
:ifi»*r  which  he  came  slowly  across  the  room  and 
sat  down  beside  her. 

"Helen,"  he  said,  "I  had  something  to  say  to  you 
also;  suppose  I  say  it  first?" 

183 


KING  MIDAS 

The  girl's  chest  was  heaving  painfully,  and  her 
heart  throbbing  violently,  but  she  gazed  into  his 
eyes,  and  smiled,  and  answered  him  "Very  well.'' 
He  took  one  of  her  burning  hands  in  his,  and  she 
made  no  resistance. 

"Helen,  dear,"  he  said,  "do  you  remember  it  was 
nearly  a  week  ago  that  we  stood  in  this  same  room, 
and  that  you  promised  to  be  my  wife?  You  were 
very  cold  to  me  then.  I  have  been  waiting  patiently 
for  you  to  change  a  little,  not  venturing  to  say  any 
thing  for  fear  of  offending  you.  But  it.  is  very 
hard " 

He  had  bent  forward  pleadingly,  and  his  face  was 
very  close  to  hers,  trying  to  read  her  heart.  Per 
haps  it  was  well  that  he  could  not,  for  it  would 
have  frightened  him.  The  moment  was  one  of  fear 
ful  suffering  for  Helen,  tho  there  was  no  sign 
of  it,  except  that  she  was  trembling  like  a  leaf,  and 
that  her  lips  were  white.  There  was  just  a  moment 
of  suspense,  and  then  with  a  cruel  effort  she  mas 
tered  herself  and  gazed  up  at  the  man,  a  smile  fore 
ing  itself  to  her  lips  again. 

"What  is  it  that  you  wish?"  she  asked. 

"I  want  you  to  care  for  me,"  the  other  said — "to 
love  me  just  a  little,  Helen;  will  you?" 

"I — I  think  so,"  was  the  reply,  in  a  scarcely 
audible  voice. 

And  Mr.  Harrison  pressed  her  hand  in  his  and 
bent  forward  eagerly.  "Then  I  may  kiss  you, 
dear?"  he  asked;  "you  will  not  mind?" 

And  Helen  bowed  her  head  and  answered,  "No." 
In  this  same  instant,  as  she  sank  forward  the  man 
clasped  her  in  his  arms;  he  pressed  her  upon  his 

184 


KING  MIDAS 

bosom,  and  covered  her  cheeks  and  forehead  with 
his  passionate,  burning  kisses.  Helen,  crushed  and 
helpless  in  his  grasp,  felt  a  revulsion  of  feeling  so 
sudden  and  so  overwhelming  that  it  was  an  agony 
to  her,  and  she  almost  screamed  aloud.  She  was 
choking  and  shuddering,  and  her  cheeks  were  on 
fire,  while  in  the  meantime  Mr.  Harrison,  almost 
beside  himself  with  passion,  pressed  her  tighter  to 
him  and  poured  out  his  protestations  of  devotion. 
Helen  bore  it  until  she  was  almost  mad  with  the 
emotion  that  had  rushed  over  her,  and  then  she 
made  a  wild  effort  to  tear  herself  free.  Her  hair 
was  disordered,  and  her  face  red,  and  her  whole 
being  throbbing  with  shame,  but  he  still  held  her  in 
his  tight  embrace. 

"You  are  not  angry,  Helen  dear?"  he  asked. 

"No,"  the  girl  gasped 

"You  told  me  that  I  might  kiss  you,"  he  said ;  and 
she  was  so  choking  with  her  emotion  that  she  could 
not  answer  a  word,  she  could  only  shudder  and  sub 
mit  to  his  will.  And  Mr.  Harrison,  supposing  that 
her  emotions  were  very  different  from  what  they 
were,  rested  her  head  upon  his  shoulder,  smooth 
ing  back  her  tangled  hair  and  whispering  into  her 
ear  how  beautiful  she  was  beyond  any  dream  of 
his,  and  how  the  present  moment  was  the  happiest 
of  his  lifetime. 

"I  thought  it  would  never  come,  dear,"  he  said, 
kissing  her  forehead  again,  "you  were  so  very  cold." 
Helen  had  not  yet  ceased  fighting  the  fearful 
battle  in  her  own  heart,  and  so  as  he  looked  into  her 
eyes,  she  gazed  up  at  him  and  forced  another 
ghastly  smile  to  her  lips:  they  looked  so  very  beau- 

185 


KING  MIDAS 

tiful  that  Mr.  Harrison  kissed  them  again  and 
again,  and  he  would  probably  have  been  content  to 
kiss  them  many  times  more,  and  to  forget  every 
thing  else  in  the  bliss,  had  Helen  been  willing. 

But  she  felt  just  then  that  if  the  strain  continued 
longer  she  would  go  mad;  with  a  laugh  that  was 
half  hysterical,  she  tore  herself  loose  by  main 
force,  and  sprang  up,  reminding  the  other  that  he 
had  a  train  to  catch.  Mr.  Harrison  demurred,  but 
the  girl  would  hear  no  more,  and  she  took  him  by 
the  hand  and  led  him  to  the  door,  still  laughing, 
and  very  much  flushed  and  excited,  so  that  he 
thought  she  was  happier  than  ever.  It  would  have 
startled  him  could  he  have  seen  her  as  he  went  to 
call  for  the  horses, — how  she  staggered  and  clung 
to  a  pillar  for  support,  as  white  as  the  marble  she 
leaned  against. 

He  did  not  see  her,  however,  and  when  the  two 
were  driving  rapidly  away  she  was  as  vivacious 
as  ever;  Helen  had  fought  yet  one  more  conflict, 
and  her  companion  was  not  skilled  enough  in  the 
study  of  character  to  perceive  that  it  was  a  desper 
ate  and  hysterical  kind  of  animation.  Poor  Helen 
was  facing  gigantic  shadows  just  then,  and  life 
wore  its  most  fearful  and  menacing  look  to  her;  she 
had  plunged  so  far  in  her  contest  that  it  was  now  a 
battle  for  life  and  death,  and  with  no  quarter.  She 
had  made  the  choice  of  "Der  Atlas,''  of  endless  joy 
or  endless  sorrow,  and  in  her  struggle  to  keep  the 
joy  she  was  becoming  more  and  more  frantic,  more 
and  more  terrified  at  the  thought  of  the  other 
possibility.  She  knew  that  to  fail  now  would  mean 
shame  and  misery  more  overwhelming  than  she 

186 


KING  MIDAS 

could  bear,  and  so  she  was  laughing  and  talking 
with  frenzied  haste;  and  every  now  and  then  she 
would  stop  and  shudder,  and  then  race  wildly  on, — 

"Like  one,  that  on   a  lonesome  road 

Doth  walk  in  fear  and  dread, 
And  having  once  turned  round  walks  on, 

And  turns  no  more  his  head; 
Because  he  knows  a  frightful  fiend 

Doth  close  behind  him  tread." 

And  so  all  through  the  ride,  because  the  girl's 
shame  and  fear  haunted  her  more  and  more,  she  be 
came  more  and  more  hysterical,  and  more  and  more 
desperate;  and  Mr.  Harrison  thought  that  he  had 
never  seen  her  so  brilliant,  and  so  daring,  and  so 
inspired;  nor  did  he  have  the  least  idea  how  fear 
fully  overwrought  she  was,  until  suddenly  as  they 
came  to  a  fork  in  the  road  he  took  a  different  one 
than  she  expected,  and  she  clutched  him  wildly  by 
the  arm.  "Why  do  you  do  that?"  she  almost 
screamed.  "Stop!" 

"What?"  he  asked  in  surprise.    "Take  this  road?" 

"Yes!"  exclaimed  Helen.     "Stop!     Stop!" 

"But  it's  only  half  a  mile  or  so  farther,"  said  Mr. 
Harrison,  reining  up  his  horses,  "and  I  thought 
you'd  like  the  change." 

"Yes,"  panted  Helen,  with  more  agitation  than 
ever.  "But  I  can't, — we'd  have  to  go  through  Hill- 
town!" 

The  wondering  look  of  course  did  not  leave  the 
other's  face  at  that  explanation.  "You  object  to 
Hill  town?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,"  said  Helen,  shuddering;  "it  is  a  horrible 
place." 

187 


KING  MIDAS 

"Why,  I  thought  it  was  a  beautiful  town," 
laughed  he.  '"But  of  course  it  is  for  you  to  say." 
Then  he  gazed  about  him  to  find  a  place  to  turn  the 
carriage.  "We'll  have  to  go  on  a  way,"  he  said. 
"The  road  is  too  narrow  here.  I'm  sorry  I  didn't 
ask  you,  but  I  had  no  idea  it  made  any  difference." 

They  continued,  however,  for  fully  a  mile,  and  the 
road  remained  narrow,  so  that  there  was  danger  of 
upsetting  in  the  ditch  if  they  tried  to  turn.  "What 
do  you  wish  me  to  do?"  Mr.  Harrison  asked  with  a 
smile.  "The  more  we  go  on  the  longer  it  will  take 
us  if  we  are  to  go  back,  and  I  may  miss  my  train;  is 
your  prejudice  against  Hilltown  so  very  strong, 
Miss  Davis?" 

"Oh,  no,"  Helen  answered,  with  a  ghastly  smile. 
"Pray  go  on;  it's  of  no  consequence." 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  it  was  of  the  greatest  con 
sequence;  for  that  incident  marked  the  turning 
point  of  the  battle  in  Helen's  heart.  Her  power 
seemed  to  go  from  her  with  every  turn  of  the  wheels 
that  brought  her  nearer  to  that  dreaded  place,  and 
she  became  more  and  more  silent,  and  more  con 
scious  of  the  fearful  fact  that  her  wretchedness 
was  mastering  her  again.  It  seemed  to  her  terrified 
imagination  as  if  everything  was  growing  dark  and 
threatening,  as  before  the  breaking  of  a  thunder 
storm. 

"You  must  indeed  dislike  Hilltown,  Miss  Davis," 
said  her  companion,  smiling.  "Why  are  you  so 
very  silent?" 

Helen  made  no  reply;  she  scarcely  heard  him,  in 
fact,  so  taken  up  was  she  with  what  was  taking 
place  in  her  own  mind;  all  her  thoughts  then  were 

188 


KIXG  MIDAS 

about  Arthur  and  what  had  become  of  him,  and 
what  he  was  thinking  about  her;  and  chiefest  of  all, 
because  her  cheeks  and  forehead  had  a  fearfully 
conscious  feeling,  what  he  would  think,  could  he 
know  what  she  had  just  been  doing.  Thus  it  was 
that  as  the  houses  of  Hilltown  drew  near,  remorse 
and  shame  and  terror  were  rising,  and  her  frantic 
protests  against  them  were  weakening,  until  sud 
denly  every  emotion  was  lost  in  suspense,  and  the 
shadows  of  the  great  elm-trees  that  arched  the  main 
street  of  the  town  closed  them  in.  Helen  knew  the 
house  where  Arthur  lodged,  and  knew  that  she 
should  pass  it  in  another  minute;  she  could  do 
nothing  but  wait  and  watch  and  tremble. 

The  carriage  rattled  on,  gazed  at  by  many  curi 
ous  eyes,  for  everyone  in  Hilltown  knew  about  the 
young  beauty  and  the  prize  she  had  caught;  but 
Helen  saw  no  one,  and  had  eyes  for  only  one  thing, 
the  little  white  house  where  Arthur  lodges.  The  car 
riage  swept  by  and  she  saw  no  one,  but  she  saw 
that  the  curtain  of  Arthur's  room  was  drawn,  and 
she  shuddered  at  the  thought,  "Suppose  he  should 
be  dying!''  Yet  it  was  a  great  load  off  her  mind  to 
have  escaped  seeing  him,  and  she  was  beginning  to 
breathe  again  and  ask  herself  if  she  still  might  not 
wrin  the  battle,  when  the  carriage  came  to  the  end 
of  the  town,  and  to  a  sight  that  froze  her  blood. 

There  was  a  tavern  by  the  roadside,  a  low  saloon 
that  was  the  curse  of  the  place,  and  she  saw  from 
the  distance  a  figure  come  out  of  the  door.  Her 
heart  gave  a  fearful  throb,  for  it  was  a  slender 
figure,  clad  in  black,  hatless  and  with  disordered 
hair  and  clothing.  In  a  moment  more,  as  Helen 


KING  MIDAS 

clutched  the  rail  beside  her  and  stared  wildly,  the 
carriage  had  swept  on  and  come  opposite  the  man; 
and  he  glanced  up  into  Helen's  eyes,  and  she  recog 
nized  the  face,  in  spite  of  all  its  ghastly  whiteness 
and  its  sunken  cheeks;  it  was  Arthur! 

There  was  just  an  instant's  meeting  of  their 
looks,  and  then  the  girl  was  whirled  on;  but  that 
one  glance  was  enough  to  leave  her  as  if  paralyzed. 
She  made  no  sound,  nor  any  movement,  and  so  her 
companion  did  not  even  know  that  anything  had 
happened  until  they  had  gone  half  a  mile  farther; 
then  as  he  chanced  to  glance  at  her  he  reined  up 
his  horses  with  a  cry. 

"Helen!"  he  exclaimed.     "What  is  the  matter?'' 
The  girl   clutched   his   arm   so   tightly  that  he 
winced,  powerful  man  that  he  was.  "Take  me  home," 
she  gasped.     "Oh,  quick,  please  take  me  home!" 


Allegro  appassionato 


IQO 


CHAPTER  IX 

"Peace!      Sit  you  down. 
And  let  me  wring  your  heart ;  for  so  I  shall, 
If  it  be  made  of  penetrable  stuff." 

HELEN  ran  up  to  her  room  when  she  reached 
home,  and  shut  herself  in,  and  after  that  she  had 
nothing  to  do  but  suffer.  All  of  her  excitement 
was  gone  from  her  then,  and  with  it  every  spark 
of  her  strength;  the  fiends  that  had  been  pursuing 
her  rose  up  and  seized  hold  of  her,  and  lashed  her 
until  she  writhed  and  cried  aloud  in  agony. 
She  was  helpless  to  resist  them,  knowing  not  which 
way  to  turn  or  what  to  do, — completely  cowed  and 
terrified.  But  there  was  no  more  sinking  into  the 
dull  despair  that  had  mastered  her  before;  the 
face  of  Arthur,  as  she  had  seen  it  in  that  one 
glimpse,  had  been  burned  into  her  memory  with 
fire,  and  she  could  not  shut  it  from  her  sight;  when 
the  fact  that  he  had  come  from  the  tavern,  and 
what  that  must  mean  rose  before  her,  it  was  almost 
more  than  she  could  bear,  cry  out  as  she  might  that 
she  could  not  help  it,  that  she  never  could  have 
helped  it,  that  she  had  nothing  to  do  with  it.  More 
over,  if  there  was  any  possibility  of  the  girl's  driv 
ing  out  that  specter,  there  was  always  another  to 
take  its  place.  It  was  not  until  she  was  alone  in 
her  room,  until  all  her  resolution  was  gone,  and  all 
of  her  delusions,  that  she  realized  the  actual  truth 

191 


KING  MIDAS 

about  what  she  had  done  that  afternoon;  it  was 
like  a  nightmare  to  her  then.  She  seemed  always 
to  feel  the  man's  arms  clasping  her,  and  whenever 
she  thought  of  his  kisses  her  forehead  burned  her 
like  fire,  so  that  she  flung  herself  down  by  the  bed 
side,  and  buried  it  in  the  pillows. 

It  was  thus  that  her  aunt  found  her  when  she 
came  in  to  call  Helen  to  dinner;  and  this  time  the 
latter's  emotions  were  so  real  and  so  keen  that 
there  was  no  prevailing  over  them,  or  persuading 
her  to  anything.  "I  don't  want  to  eat!"  she  cried 
again  and  again  in  answer  to  her  aunt's  alarmed 
insistence.  "No,  I  am  not  coming  down!  I  want  to 
be  alone!  Alone,  Aunt  Polly — please  leave  me 
alone!'' 

"But,  Helen,1'  protested  Mrs.  Roberts,  "won't  you 
please  tell  me  what  is  the  matter?  What  in  the 
world  can  have  happened  to  you?" 

"I  can't  tell  you,"  the  girl  cried  hysterically.  UI 
want  you  to  go  and  leave  me  alone!"  And  she  shut 
the  door  and  locked  it,  and  then  began  pacing  wildly 
up  and  down  the  room,  heedless  of  the  fact  that  her 
aunt  was  still  standing  out  in  the  hallway;  the  girl 
was  too  deeply  shaken  just  then  to  have  any 
thought  about  appearances. 

She  was  thinking  about  Arthur  again,  and  about 
his  fearful  plight;  there  rushed  back  upon  her  all 
the  memories  of  their  childhood,  and  of  the  happi 
ness  which  they  had  known  together.  The  thought 
of  the  broken  figure  which  she  had  seen  by  the 
roadside  became  more  fearful  to  her  every  moment. 
It  was  not  that  it  troubled  her  conscience,  for 
Helen  could  still  argue  to  herself  that  she  had  done 

192 


KTYG  MIDAS 

nothing  to  wrong  her  friend,  that  there  had  been 
nothing  selfish  in  her  attitude  towards  him;  she 
had  wished  him  to  be  happy.  It  seemed  to  her  that 
it  was  simply  a  result  of  the  cruel  perversity  of 
things  that  she  had  been  trampling  upon  her 
friend's  happiness  in  order  to  reach  her  own,  and 
that  all  her  struggling  had  only  served  to  make 
things  worse.  The  fact  that  it  was  not  her  fault, 
however,  did  not  make  the  situation  seem  less  tragic 
and  fearful  to  her;  it  had  come  to  such  a  crisis  now 
that  it  drove  her  almost  mad  to  think  about  it,  yet 
she  was  completely  helpless  to  know  what  to  do, 
and  as  she  strode  up  and  down  the  room,  she  clasped 
her  hands  to  her  aching  head  and  cried  aloud  in 
her  perplexity. 

Then  too  her  surging  thoughts  hurried  on  to  an 
other  unhappiness, — to  her  father,  and  what  he 
would  say  when  he  learned  the  dreadful  news.  How 
could  she  explain  it  to  him?  And  how  could  she 
tell  him  about  her  marriage?  At  the  mere  thought 
of  that  the  other  horror  seized  upon  her  again,  and 
she  sank  down  in  a  chair  by  the  window  and  hid 
her  face  in  her  hands. 

"Oh,  how  can  I  have  done  it?"  she  gasped  to  her 
self.  "Oh,  it  was  so  dreadful!  And  what  am  I  to  do 
now?" 

That  last  was  the  chief  question,  the  one  to 
which  all  others  led;  yet  it  was  one  to  which  she 
could  find  no  answer.  She  was  completely  con 
fused  and  helpless,  and  she  exclaimed  aloud  again 
and  again,  "Oh,  if  I  could  only  find  some  one  to  tell 
me!  I  do  not  know  how  I  can  keep  Arthur  from 

13  193 


KING  MIDAS 

behaving  in  that  dreadful  way,  and  I  know  that  I 
cannot  ever  marry  Mr.  Harrison!" 

The  more  she  tortured  herself  with  these  prob 
lems,  the  more  agitated  she  became.  She  sat  there 
at  the  window,  clutching  the  sill  in  her  hands  and 
staring  out,  seeing  nothing,  and  knowing  only  that 
the  time  was  flying,  and  that  her  anxiety  was  build 
ing  itself  up  and  becoming  an  agony  which  she 
could  not  bear. 

"Oh,  what  am  I  to  do?"  she  groaned  again  and 
again;  and  she  passed  hours  asking  herself  the 
fearful  question;  the  twilight  had  closed  about  her, 
and  the  moon  had  risen  behind  the  distant  hills. 

So  oblivious  to  all  things  about  her  was  she,  that 
she  failed  at  first  to  notice  something  else,  some 
thing  which  would  ordinarily  have  attracted  her 
attention  at  once, — a  sound  of  music  which  came  to 
her  from  somewhere  near.  Jt  was  the  melody  of 
Grieg's  "An  den  Frubling"  played  upon  a  violin, 
and  it  had  stolen  into  Helen's  heart  and  become 
part  of  her  own  stormy  emotion  before  she  had 
even  thought  of  what  it  was  or  whence  it  came. 
The  little  piece  is  the  very  soul  of  the  springtime 
passion,  and  to  the  girl  it  was  the  very  utterance 
of  all  her  yearning,  lifting  her  heart  in  a  great 
throbbing  prayer.  When  it  had  died  away  her 
hands  were  clenched  very  tightly,  and  her  breath 
was  coming  fast. 

She  remained  thus  for  a  minute,  forgetful  of  every 
thing;  then  at  last  she  found  herself  thinking  "it 
must  be  Mr.  Howard,"  and  waiting  to  see  if  he 
would  play  again.  But  he  did  not  do  so,  and  Helen 
sat  in  silence  for  a  long  time,  her  thoughts  turned 

194 


KFXG  MIDAS 

to  him.  She  found  herself  whispering  "so  he  is  ;i 
wonderful  musician  after  all,"  and  noticing  that  the 
memory  of  his  wan  face  frightened  her  no  longer; 
it  seemed  just  then  that  there  could  be  no  one  in  the 
world  more  wretched  than  herself.  She  was  only 
wishing  that  he  would  begin  again,  for  that  utter 
ance  of  her  grief  had  seemed  like  a  victory,  and  now 
in  the  silence  she  was  sinking  back  into  her  de 
spair.  The  more  she  waited,  the  more  impatient  she 
grew,  until  suddenly  she  rose  from  her  seat. 

uHe  might  play  again  if  I  asked  him,"  she  said  to 
herself.  "He  would  if  he  knew  I  was  unhappy;  I 
wonder  where  he  can  be?" 

Helen's  window  was  in  the  front  of  the  house, 
opening  upon  a  broad  lawn  whose  walks  were 
marked  in  the  moonlight  by  the  high  shrubbery 
that  lined  them.  Some  distance  beyond,  down  one 
of  the  paths,  were  two  summer-houses,  and  it 
seemed  to  her  that  the  music  had  come  from  one 
of  them,  probably  the  far  one,  for  it  had  sounded 
very  soft.  No  sooner  had  the  thought  come  to  her 
than  she  turned  and  went  quietly  to  the  door.  She 
ran  quickly  down  the  steps,  and  seeing  her  aunt 
and  Mr.  Roberts  upon  the  piazza,  she  turned  and 
passed  out  by  one  of  the  side  doors. 

Helen  had  yielded  to  a  sudden  impulse  in  doing 
thus,  drawn  by  her  yearning  for  the  music.  When 
she  thought  about  it  as  she  walked  on  it  seemed  to 
her  a  foolish  idea,  for  the  man  could  not  possibly 
know  of  her  trouble,  and  moreover  was  probably 
with  his  friend  the  lieutenant.  Rut  she  did  not  stop 
even  then,  for  her  heart's  hunger  still  drove  her 
on,  and  she  thought,  "I'll  see,  and  perhaps  he 


KING  MIDAS 

will  play  again  without  my  asking;  I  can  sit  in  the 
near  summer-house  and  wait." 

She  went  swiftly  on  with  that  purpose  in  mind, 
not  going  upon  the  path,  because  she  would  have 
been  in  the  full  moonlight,  and  in  sight  of  the  two 
upon  the  piazza.  She  passed  silently  along  by  the 
high  hedge,  concealed  in  its  shadows,  and  her  foot 
steps  deadened  by  the  grass.  She  was  as  quiet  as 
possible,  wishing  to  be  in  the  summer-house  with 
out  anyone's  knowing  it. 

And  she  had  come  very  close  to  it  indeed,  within 
a  few  yards,  when  suddenly  she  stopped  short  with 
an  inward  exclamation;  the  silence  of  the  twilight 
had  been  broken  by  a  voice — one  that  seemed  almost 
beside  her,  and  that  startled  her  with  .a  realization 
of  the  mistake  she  had  made.  The  two  men  were 
themselves  in  the  house  to  which  she  had  been 
going. 

It  was  Mr.  Howard's  voice  which  she  heard;  he 
wras  speaking  very  low,  almost  in  a  whisper,  yet 
Helen  was  near  enough  to  hear  every  word  that  he 
uttered. 

"Most  people  would  think  it  simply  a  happy  and 
beautiful  piece  of  music,"  he  said.  "Most  people 
think  that  of  the  springtime;  but  when  a  man  has 
lived  as  I,  he  may  find  that  the  springtime  too  is 
a  great  labor  and  a  great  suffering, — he  does  not 
forget  that  for  the  thousands  of  creatures  that  win 
the  great  fight  and  come  forth  rejoicing,  there  are 
thousands  and  tens  of  thousands  that  go  down, 
and  have  their  mite  of  life  crushed  out,  and  find  the 
law  very  stern  indeed.  Even  those  that  win  do  it 
by  a  fearful  effort,  and  cannot  keep  their  beauty 

196 


KING  MIDAS 

long;  so  that  the  springtime  passion  takes  on  a 
kind  of  desperate  intensity  when  one  thinks  of  it." 

The  voice  ceased  again  for  a  moment,  and  Helen 
stood  gazing  about  her;  the  words  were  not  with 
out  a  dimly-felt  meaning  to  her  just  then,  and  the 
tone  of  the  man's  voice  seemed  like  the  music  she 
had  heard  him  play.  She  would  have  liked  to  stay 
and  listen,  tho  she  knew  that  she  had  no  right  to. 
She  was  certain  that  she  had  not  been  see-n,  because 
the  little  house  was  thickly  wrapped  about  with 
eglantine;  and  she  stood,  uncertain  as  to  whether 
she  ought  to  steal  back  or  go  out  and  join  the  two 
men.  In  the  meantime  the  voice  began  again: 

"It  gives  a  man  a  new  feeling  of  the  preciousness 
of  life  to  know  keenly  what  it  means  to  fail,  to  be 
like  a  tiny  spark,  struggling  to  maintain  itself  in 
the  darkness,  and  finding  that  all  it  can  do  is  not 
sufficient,  and  that  it  is  sinking  back  into  nothing 
ness  forever.  I  think  that  is  the  meaning  of  the 
wild  and  startled  look  that  the  creatures  of  the 
forest  wear;  and  it  is  a  very  tragic  thing  indeed  to 
realize,  and  makes  one  full  of  mercy.  .If  he  knows 
his  own  heart  he  can  read  the  same  thing  in  the 
faces  of  men,  and  he  no  longer  even  laughs  at  their 
pride  and  their  greediness,  but  sees  them  quite  in 
finitely  wretched  and  pitiable.  I  do  not  speak 
merely  of  the  poor  and  hopeless  people,  the  hunted 
creatures  of  society;  for  this  terror  is  not  merely 
physical.  It  is  the  same  imperative  of  life  that 
makes  conscience,  and  so  every  man  knows  it  who 
has  made  himself  a  slave  to  his  body,  and  sees  tin1 
soul  within  him  helpless  and  sinking;  and  every 
man  who  has  sinned  and  sees  his  evil  stamped  upon 


KING  MIDAS 

the  face  of  things  outside  him,  in  shapes  of  terror 
that  must  be  forever.  Strange  as  it  may  seem,  I 
think  the  man  who  lives  most  rightly,  the  man  of 
genius,  knows  the  feeling  most  of  all,  because  his 
conscience  is  the  quickest.  It  is  his  task  to  live 
from  his  own  heart,  to  take  the  power  that  is  within 
him  and  wrestle  with  it,  and  build  new  universes 
from  it, — to  be  a  pioneer  of  the  soul,  so  to  speak, 
and  to  go  where  no  man  has  ever  been  before;  and 
yet  all  his  victory  is  nothing  to  him,  because  he 
knows  so  well  what  he  might  have  done.  Every 
time  that  he  shrinks,  as  he  must  shrink,  from  what 
is  so  hard  and  so  high  in  his  own  vision,  he  knows 
that  yet  another  glory  is  lost  forever,  and  so  it 
comes  that  he  stands  very  near  indeed  to  the  'tears 
of  things/  " 

Mr.  Howard  stopped  again,  and  Helen  found 
herself  leaning  forward  and  wondering. 

"I  know  more  about  those  tears  than  most  peo 
ple,"  the  man  went  on  slowly,  after  a  long  pause, 
"for  I  have  had  to  build  my  own  life  in  that  way;  I 
know  best  of  all  the  failure,  for  that  has  been  my 
lot.  When  you  and  I  knew  each  other,  I  was  very 
strong  in  my  own  heart,  and  I  could  always  find 
what  joy  and  power  I  needed  for  the  living  of  my 
life;  but  there  have  come  to  me  since,  in  the  years 
that  I  have  dwelt  all  alone  with  my  great  trial, 
times  when  I  think  that  I  have  stood  face  to  face 
with  this  thing  that  we  speak  of,  this  naked  tragedy 
and  terror  of  existence.  There  have  been  times 
when  all  the  yearning  and  all  the  prayer  that  I  had 
c.ould  not  save  me,  when  I  have  known  that  I  had 
not  an  ounce  of  resource  left,  and  have  sat  and 

193 


the  iiim,  in  shapes  of  terror 

that  ti,  I 

thin  i  rightly,  the  man  of 

of  all,  his 

is  his  task   to  live 
er  that  is  within 
::!>1   now  mii\ 

so  to  speak, 

and 

he 

Every 
i   he  sin  'hat 

IOW8 

so  it 

tie  stands  very  c  -ars 

of 

^T^at  md 

ndering. 

tiian  most  peo- 

r  a  long  pause, 

life  in  that  way;  I 

,as  been  my 

I  was 

always  find 

whj  g  of  my 

life;  bu  ears 

that  •  at  trial, 

tim>  •  to  face 

with  this  tli  tragedy 

and  terror  imes 

when  all  th<  had 

ex)iild  not  sa  had 

not  an  ouri'  an(l 

J98 


•  V* 


'1L£/\P 


KING  MIDAS 

watched  the  impulse  of  my  soul  die  within  me,  and 
all  my  strength  go  from  me,  and  se«'n  myself  with 
fearful  plainness  as  a  spark  of  yearning,  a  living 
thing  in  all  its  pitifulness  and  hunger,  helpless  and 
walled  up  in  darkness.  To  feel  that  is  to  be  vn-y 
near  indeed  to  the  losing  creatures  and  their  sor 
row,  and  the  memory  of  one  such  time  is  enough  to 
kei'p  a  man  merciful  forever.  For  it  is  really  the 
deepest  fact  about  life  that  a  man  can  know;— 
how  it  is  so  hazardous  and  so  precious,  how  it  keeps 
its  head  above  the  great  ocean  of  the  infinite  only 
by  all  the  force  it  can  exert;  it  happens  sometimes 
that  a  man  does  not  discover  that  truth  until  it  is 
too  late,  and  then  he  finds  life  very  cruel  and  savage 
indeed,  I  can  tell  you." 

Mr.  Howard  stopped,  and  Helen  drew  a  deep 
breath;  she  had  been  trembling  slightly  as  she  stood 
listening;  then  as  he  spoke  again,  her  heart  gave 
a  violent  throb.  "Some  day,"  he  said,  "this  girl 
that  we  were  talking  about  will  have  to  come  to 
that  part  of  her  life's  journey;  it  is  a  very  sad  thing 
to  know." 

"She  will  understand  her  sonata  better,"  said  the 
officer. 

"No,"  was  the  reply;  "I  wish  I  could  think  even 
that;  I  know  how  sorrow  affects  a  person  whose 
heart  is  true,  how  it  draws  him  close  to  the  great 
heart  of  life,  and  teaches  him  its  sacredness,  and 
sends  him  forth  merciful  and  humble.  But  selfish 
misery  and  selfish  fear  are  no  less  ugly  than  selfish 
happiness;  a  person  who  suffers  ignobly  becomes 
only  disgusted  and  disagreeable,  and  more  selfish 
than  ever.  *  *  But  let  us  not  talk  any  more 

199 


KING  MIDAS 

about  Miss  Davis,  for  it  is  not  a  pleasant  subject; 
to  a  man  who  seeks  as  I  do  to  keep  his  heart  full  of 
worship  the  very  air  of  this  place  is  sti fling , ^witt L  its 
idleness  and  pride.  It  gives  the  he  to  all  my  faith 
about  life,  and  I  have  only  to  go  back  into  my  soli 
tude  and  forget  it  as  soon  as  I  can. 
'  "That  ought  not  to  be  a  difficult  thing  to  do, 

^thTfor  me"  the  other  answered;  "it  haunts  my 
thoughts  all  the  time."    He  paused  for  a  while  am 
then  he  added,  "I  happened  to  think  of  something 
I   came   across   this   morning,   in   a   collection   of 
French  verse  I  was  reading;  William,  did  you  ever 
read  anything  of  Auguste  Brizeux?' 
The  other  answered  in  the  negative. 
"He  has  some  qualities  that  are  very  rare  in 
French  poetry,"  went  on  Mr.  Howard.    "He  makes 
one  think  of  Wordsworth.     I  happened  to  read  a 
homely  little  ballad  of  his-a  story  of  some  of  that 
tragedy  of  things  that  we  spoke  of;  one  could  name 
hundreds  of  such  poems  quite  as  good,  I  suppose 
but  this  happened  to  be  the  one  I  came  across,  and 
I  could  not  help  thinking  of  Miss  Davis  and  wonder, 
ng  if  she  were  really  so  cold  and  so  hard  that  she 
could  have  heard  this  story  without  shuddering. 
For  it  really  shook  me  very  much." 
"What  is  it?"  the  other  asked. 
"I  can  tell  you  the  story  in  a  few  words     said 
Mr   Howard.     "To  me  it  was  one  of  those  flashes 
of  beauty  that  frighten  one  and  haunt  him  long 
afterwards;  and  I  do  not  quite  like  to  think  ab< 

"  The  speaker's  voice  dropped,  and  the  girl  involun- 


200 


KING  MIDAS 

tarily  crept  a  little  nearer  to  hear  him;  there  was 
a  tree  in  front  of  her,  and  she  leaned  against  it, 
breathing  very  hard,  tho  making  no  sound. 

"The  ballad  is  called  'Jacques  the  Mason/"  said 
Mr.  Howard.  "There  are  three  little  pictures  in  it; 
in  the  first  of  them  you  see  two  men  setting  off  to 
their  work  together,  one  of  them  bidding  his  wife 
and  children  good-by,  and  promising  to  return  with 
his  friend  for  an  evening's  feast,  because  the  great 
building  is  to  be  finished.  Then  you  see  them  at 
work,  swarming  upon  the  structure  and  rejoicing 
in  their  success;  and  then  you  hear  the  shouts  of 
the  crowd  as  the  scaffolding  breaks,  and  see  those 
two  men  hanging  over  the  abyss,  clinging  to  a  lit 
tle  plank.  It  is  not  strong  enough  to  hold  them 
both,  and  it  is  cracking,  and  that  means  a  fearful 
death;  they  try  to  cling  to  the  stones  of  the  build 
ing  and  cannot,  and  so  there  comes  one  of  those 
fearful  moments  that  makes  a  man's  heart  break 
to  think  of.  Then  in  the  fearful  silence  you  beat- 
one  of  the  men  whisper  that  he  has  three  children 
and  a  wife;  and  you  see  the  other  gaze  at  him  an 
instant  with  terror  in  his  eyes,  and  then  let  go  his 
hold  and  shoot  down  to  the  street  below.  And 
that  is  all  of  the  story." 

Mr.  Howard  stopped,  and  there  followed  a  long 
silence;  afterwards  he  went  on,  his  voice  trembling: 
"That  is  all,"  he  said,  "except  of  course  that  the 
man  was  killed.  And  I  can  think  of  nothing  but 
that  body  hurled  down  through  the  air,  and  the 
crushed  figure  and  the  writhing  limbs.  I  fancy  the 
epic  grandeur  of  soul  of  that  poor  ignorant  laborer, 
and  the  glory  that  must  have  flamed  up  in  his  heart 

201 


KING  MIDAS 

at  that  great  instant;  so  I  find  it  a  dreadful  poem, 
and  wonder  if  it  would  not  frighten  that  careless 
girl  to  read  it.'1 

Mr.  Howard  stopped  again,  and  the  officer  asked 
if  the  story  were  true. 

"I  do  not  know  that/1  answered  the  other,  "nor 
do  I  care;  it  is  enough  to  know  that  every  day  men 
are  called  upon  to  face  the  shuddering  reality  of 
existence  in  some  such  form  as  that.  And  the  ques 
tion  which  it  brought  to  my  heart  is,  if  it  came  to 
me,  as  terrible  as  that,  and  as  sudden  and  implac 
able,  would  I  show  myself  the  man  or  the  dastard? 
And  that  filled  me  with  a  fearful  awe  and  humil 
ity,  and  a  guilty  wonder  whether  somewhere  in  the 
world  there  might  not  be  a  wall  from  which  I 
should  be  throwing  myself,  instead  of  nursing  my 
illness  as  I  do,  and  being  content  to  read  about 
greatness.  And  oh,  I  tell  you,  when  I  think  of  such 
things  as  that,  and  see  the  pride  and  worthlessness 
of  this  thing  that  men  call  'high  life/  it  seemed  to 
me  no  longer  heedless  folly,  but  dastardly  and  fiend 
ish  crime,  so  that  one  can  only  bury  his  face  in  his 
hands  and  sob  to  know  of  it.  And  William,  the  more 
I  realized  it,  the  more  unbearable  it  seemed  to  me 
that  this  glorious  girl  with  all  her  God-given 
beauty,  should  be  plunging  herself  into  a  stream  so 
foul.  I  felt  as  if  it  were  cowardice  of  mine  that  I 
did  not  take  her  by  the  hand  and  try  to  make  her 
see  what  madness  she  was  doing." 

"Why  do  you  not?"  asked  the  lieutenant. 

"I  think  I  should  have,  in  my  more  Quixotic 
days,"  replied  the  other,  sadly;  "and  perhaps  some 
day  I  may  find  myself  in  a  kind  of  high  life  where 

202 


KING  MIDAS 

royal  sincerity  is  understood.  But  in  this  world 
even  an  idealist  has  to  keep  a  sense  of  humor,  un 
less  he  happens  to  be  dowered  with  an  Isaiah's 
rage." 

Mr.  Howard  paused  for  a  moment  arid  laughed 
slightly;  then,  however,  he  went  on  more  earnestly: 
"Yet,  as  I  think  of  it,  I  know  that  I  could  frighten 
her;  I  think  that  if  I  should  tell  her  of  some  of  the 
days  and  nights  that  I  have  spent  in  tossing  upon  a 
bed  of  fire,  she  might  find  the  cup  of  her  selfishness 
a  trifle  less  pleasant  to  drink.  It  is  something  that 
I  have  noticed  with  people,  that  they  may  be  coarse 
or  shallow  enough  to  laugh  at  virtue  and  earnest 
ness, 'but  there  are  very  few  who  do  not  bow  their 
heads  before  suffering.  For  that  is  something 
physical;  and  they  may  harden  their  conscience  if 
they  please,  but  from  the  possibility  of  bodily  pain 
they  know  that  they  can  never  be  safe;  and  they 
seem  to  know  that  a  man  who  has  walked  with  that 
demon  has  laid  his  hand  upon  the  grim  reality  of 
things,  before  which  their  shams  and  vanities 
shrink  into  nothingness.  The  sight  of  it  is  always 
a  kind  of  warning  of  the  seriousness  of  life,  and 
so  even  when  people  feel  no  sympathy,  they  cannot 
but  feel  fear;  I  saw  for  instance,  that  the  first  time 
this  girl  saw  me  she  turned  pale,  and  she  would 
not  come  anywhere  near  me." 

As  the  speaker  paused  again.  Lieutenant  May- 
nard  said,  very  quietly:  "I  should  think  that  would 
be  a  hard  cross  to  bear,  David." 

"No,"  said  Mr.  Howard,  with  a  slight  smile,  "I 
had  not  that  thought  in  my  mind.  I  have  seen  too 
much  of  the  reality  of  life  to  trouble  myself  or  the 

203 


KING  MIDAS 

the  world  with  vanity  of  that  very  crude  kind;  I 
can  sometimes  imagine  myself  being  proud  of  my 
serenity,  but  that  is  one  step  beyond  at  any  rate. 
A  man  who  lives  in  his  soul  very  seldom  thinks  of 
himself  in  an  external  way;  when  I  look  in  the 
glass  it  is  generally  to  think  how  strange  it  is  that 
this  form  of  mine  should  be  that  which  represents 
me  to  men,  and  I  cannot  find  anything  they  might 
really  learn  about  me,  except  the  one  physical  fact 
of  suffering." 

"They  can  certainly  not  fail  to  learn  that,"  said 
the  other. 

"Yes,"  replied  Mr.  Howard  sadly,  "I  know,  if  any 
man  does,  what  it  is  to  earn  one's  life  by  suffering 
and  labor.  That  is  why  I  have  so  mastering  a  sense 
of  life's  preciousness,  and  why  I  cannot  reconcile 
myself  to  this  dreadful  fact  of  wealth.  It  is  the 
same  thing,  too,  that  makes  me  feel  so  keenly  about 
this  girl  and  her  beauty,  and  keeps  her  in  my 
thoughts.  I  don't  think  I  could  tell  you  how  the 
sight  of  her  affected  me,  unless  you  knew  how  I 
have  lived  all  these  lonely  years.  For  I  have  had 
no  friends  and  no  strength  for  any  of  the  world's 
work,  and  all  my  battle  has  been  with  my  own  soul, 
to  be  brave  and  to  keep  my  self-command  through 
all  my  trials;  I  think  my  illness  has  acted  as  a  kind 
of  nervous  stimulus  upon  me,  as  if  it  were  only  by 
laboring  to  dwell  upon  the  heights  of  my  being 
night  and  day  that  I  could  have  strength  to  stand 
against  despair.  The  result  is  that  I  have  lived  for 
days  in  a  kind  of  frenzy  of  effort,  with  all  my  facul 
ties  at  white  heat;  and  it  has  always  been  the 
artist's  life,  it  has  always  been  beauty  that  brought 

204 


KING  MIDAS 

me  the  joy  that  I  needed,  and  given  me  the  strength 
to  go  on.  Beauty  is  the  sign  of  victory,  and  the 
prize  of  it,  in  this  heart's  battle;  the  more  I  have 
suffered  and  labored,  the  more  keenly  I  have  come 
to  feel  that,  until  the  commonest  flower  has  a  song 
for  me.  And  William,  the  time  I  saw  this  girl 
she  wore  a  rose  in  her  hair,  but  she  was  so  per 
fect  that  I  scarcely  saw  the  flower;  there  is  that 
in  a  man's  heart  which  makes  it  that  to  him  the 
fairest  and  most  sacred  of  God's  creatures  must 
always  be  the  maiden.  When  I  was  young,  I 
walked  about  the  earth  half  drunk  with  a  dream  of 
love;  and  even  now,  when  I  am  twice  as  old  as  my 
years,  and  burnt  out  and  dying,  I  could  not  but 
start  when  I  saw  this  girl.  For  I  fancied  that  she 
must  carry  about  in  that  maiden's  heart  of  hers 
some  high  notion  of  what  she  meant  in  the  world, 
and  what  was  due  to  her.  When  a  man  gazes  upon 
beauty  such  as  hers,  there  is  a  feeling  that  comes 
to  him  that  is  quite  unutterable,  a  feeling  born  of 
all  the  weakness  and  failure  and  sin  of  his  lifetime. 
For  every  true  man's  life  is  a  failure;  and  this  is 
the  vision  that  he  sought  with  so  much  pain,  the 
thing  that  might  have  been,  had  he  kept  the  faith 
with  his  own  genius.  It  is  so  that  beauty  is  the 
conscience  of  the  artist;  and  that  there  must  always 
be  something  painful  and  terrible  about  high  per 
fection.  It  was  that  way  that  I  felt  when  I  saw 
this  girl's  face,  and  I  dreamt  my  old  dream  of  the 
sweetness  and  glory  of  a  maiden's  heart.  I  thought 
of  its  spotlessness  and  of  its  royal  scorn  of  base 
ness;  and  I  tell  you,  William,  if  I  had  found  it  thus 
I  could  have  been  content  to  worship  and  not  even 

205 


KING  MIDAS 

ask  that  the  girl  look  at  ine.  For  a  man,  when  he 
has  lived  as  I  have  lived,  can  feel  towards  anything 
more  perfect  than  himself  a  quite  wonderful  kind 
of  humility;  I  know  that  all  the  trouble  with  my 
helpless  struggling  is  that  I  must  be  everything  to 
myself,  and  cannot  find  anything  to  love,  and  so  be 
at  peace.  That  was  the  way  I  felt  when  I  saw  this 
Miss  Davis,  all  that  agitation  and  all  that  yearn 
ing;  and  was  it  not  enough  to  make  a  man  mock  at 
himself,  to  learn  the  real  truth?  I  was  glad  that  it 
did  not  happen  to  me  when  I  was  young  and  de 
pendent  upon  things  about  me;  is  it  not  easy  to 
imagine  how  a  young  man  might  make  such  a 
woman  the  dream  of  his  life,  how  he  might  lay  all 
his  prayer  at  her  feet,  and  how,  when  he  learned  of 
her  fearful  baseness,  it  might  make  of  him  a  mock 
ing  libertine  for  the  rest  of  his  days?" 

"You  think  it  baseness?"  asked  Lieutenant  May- 
nard. 

"I  tried  to  persuade  myself  at  first  that  it  must 
be  only  blindness;  I  wondered  to  myself,  'Can  she 
not  see  the  difference  between  the  life  of  these 
people  about  her  and  the  music  and  poetry  her  aunt 
tells  me  she  loves?'  I  never  waste  any  of  my  worry 
upon  the  old  and  hardened  of  these  vulgar  and 
worldly  people;  it  is  enough  for  me  to  know  why 
the  women  are  dull  and  full  of  gossip,  and  to  know 
how  much  depth  there  is  in  the  pride  and  in  the 
wisdom  of  the  men.  But  it  was  very  hard  for  me 
to  give  up  my  dream  of  the  girl's  purity;  I  remem 
ber  I  thought  of  Heine's  'Thou  art  as  a  flower/  and 
my  heart  was  full  of  prayer.  I  wondered  if  it  might 
not  be  possible  to  tell  her  that  one  cannot  combine 

206 


KING  MIDAS 

music  and  a  social  career,  and  that  one  cannot 
really  buy  happiness  with  sin;  I  thought  that  per 
haps  she  might  be  grateful  for  the  warning  that  in 
cutting  herself  off  from  the  great  deepening  ex 
perience  of  woman  she  was  consigning  herself  to 
stagnation  and  wretchedness  from  which  no  money 
could  ever  purchase  her  ransom;  I  thought  that 
possibly  she  did  not  see  that  this  man  knew  nothing 
of  her  preciousness  and  had  no  high  thoughts  about 
her  beauty.  That  was  the  way  I  argued  with  my 
self  about  her  innocence,  and  you  may  fancy  the 
kind  of  laughter  that  came  over  me  at  the  truth.  It 
is  a  ghastly  thing,  William,  the  utter  hardness,  the 
grim  and  determined  worldliness,  of  this  girl.  For 
she  knew  very  well  what  she  was  doing,  and  all  the 
ignorance  was  on  my  part.  She  had  no  care  about 
anything  in  the  world  until  that  man  came  in,  and 
the  short  half  hour  that  I  watched  them  was  enough 
to  tell  her  that  her  life's  happiness  was  won.  But 
only  think  of  her,  William,  with  all  her  God-given 
beauty,  allowing  herself  to  be  kissed  by  him!  Try 
to  fancy  what  newT  kind  of  fiendishness  must  lie  in 
her  heart!  I  remember  that  she  is  to  marry  him 
because  he  pays  her  millions,  and  the  word  prosti 
tution  keeps  haunting  my  memory;  when  I  try  to 
define  it,  I  find  that  the  millions  do  not  alter  it  in 
the  least.  That  is  a  very  cruel  thought, — a  thought 
that  drives  away  everything  but  the  prayer — and 
I  sit  and  wonder  what  fearful  punishment  the  hand 
of  Fate  will  deal  out  for  such  a  thing  as  that,  what 
hatefulness  it  will  stamp  upon  her  for  a  sign  to 
men.  And  then  because  the  perfect  face  still 
haunts  my  memory,  I  have  a  very  Christ-like  feeling 

207 


KING  MIDAS 

indeed, — that  I  could  truly  die  to  save  that  girl 
from  such  a  horror." 

There  was  another  long  silence,  and  then  sud 
denly,  Mr.  Howard  rose  from  his  seat.  "William," 
he  said  in  a  different  voice,  "it  is  all  useless,  so  why 
should  we  talk  so?  The  girl  has  to  live  her  own 
life  and  learn  these  things  for  herself.  And  in  the 
meantime,  perhaps  I  am  letting  myself  be  too  much 
moved  by  her  beauty,  for  there  are  many  people 
in  the  world  who  are  not  beautiful,  but  who  suffer 
things  they  do  not  deserve  to  suffer,  and  who  really 
deserve  our  sympathy  and  help." 

"I  fancy  you'd  not  be  much  thanked  for  it  in  this 
case,"  said  the  other,  with  a  dry  laugh. 

Mr.  Howard  stood  for  some  moments  in  silence, 
and  then  turned  away  to  end  the  conversation.  "I 
fear,"  he  said,  "that  I  have  kept  you  more  than  I 
have  any  right  to.  Let  us  go  back  to  the  house;  it 
is  not  very  polite  to  our  hostess  to  stay  so  long." 

"It  must  be  nearly  time  for  my  train,  anyhow," 
said  the  officer,  and  a  moment  later  the  two  had 
passed  out  of  the  summer-house  and  up  the  path, 
Lieutenant  Maynard  carrying  Mr.  Howard's  violin- 
case  in  his  hand. 

The  two  did  not  see  Helen  as  they  passed  her; 
the  reason  was  that  Helen  was  stretched  out  upon 
the  ground  by  the  side  of  the  hedge.  It  was  not 
that  she  was  hiding, — she  had  no  thought  of  that; 
it  was  because  she  had  been  struck  there  by  the 
scathing  words  that  she  had  heard.  Some  of  them 
were  so  bitter  that  they  could  only  have  filled  her 
with  rage  had  she  not  known  that  they  were  true, 
and  had  she  not  been  awed  by  what  she  had  learned 

208 


KING  MIDAS 

of  this  man's  heart.  She  could  feel  only  terror  and 
fiery  shame,  and  the  cruel  words  had  beaten  her 
down,  first  upon  her  knees,  and  then  upon  her  face, 
and  they  lashed  her  like  whips  of  flame  and  tore 
into  her  flesh  and  made  her  writhe  She  dared  not 
cry  out,  or  even  sob;  she  could  only  dig  into  the 
ground  with  her  quivering  fingers,  and  lie  there, 
shuddering  in  a  fearful  way.  Long  after  the  two 
men  were  gone  her  cruel  punishment  still  con 
tinued,  for  she  still  seemed  to  hear  his  words, 
seared  into  her  memory  with  fire  as  they  had  been. 
What  Mr.  Howard  had  said  had  come  like  a  flash 
of  lightning  in  the  darkness  to  show  her  actions 
as  they  really  were;  the  last  fearful  sentences  which 
she  had  heard  had  set  all  her  being  aflame,  and  the 
thought  of  Mr.  Harrison's  embraces  filled  her  now 
with  a  perfect  spasm  of  shame  and  loathing. 

"I  sold  myself  to  him  for  money!"  she  panted. 
"Oh,  God,  for  money!" 

But  then  suddenly  she  raised  herself  up  and 
stared  about  her.  crying  out,  half-hysterically,  "No, 
no,  it  is  not  true!  .It  is  not  true!  I  could  never  have 
done  it — I  should  have  gone  mad!"  And  a  moment 
later  Helen  had  staggered  to  her  feet.  "I  must  tell 
him,"  she  gasped.  "He  must  not  think  so  of  me!" 

Mr.  Howard  had  come  to  her  as  a  vision  from  a 
higher  world,  making  all  that  she  had  known  and 
admired  seem  hideous  and  base;  and  her  one 
thought  just  then  was  of  him.  "He  will  still  scorn 
me,"  she  thought,  "but  I  must  tell  him  I  really  did 
suffer."  And  heedless  of  the  fact  that  her  hair  was 
loose  about  her  shoulders  and  her  dress  wet  with 
the  dew  of  the  grass,  the  girl  ran  swiftly  up  the 
14  209 


KING  MIDAS 

lawn  towards  the  house,  whispering  again  and 
again,  "I  must  tell  him!" 

It  was  only  a  minute  more  before  she  was  near 
the  piazza,  and  could  see  the  people  upon  it  as  they 
stood  in  the  lighted  doorway.  Mr.  Howard  was  one 
of  them,  and  Helen  would  have  rushed  blindly  up 
to  speak  to  him,  had  it  not  been  that  another 
thought  came  to  her  to  stop  her. 

"Suppose  he  should  know  of  Arthur!"  she  mut 
tered,  clenching  her  hands  until  the  nails  cut  her 
flesh.  "Oh,  what  would  he  think  then?  And  what 
could  I  tell  him?"  And  she  shrank  back  into  the 
darkness,  like  a  black  and  guilty  thing.  She  crept 
around  the  side  of  the  house  and  entered  by  another 
door,  stealing  into  one  of  the  darkened  parlors, 
where  she  flung  herself  down  upon  a  sofa  and  lay 
trembling  before  that  new  terror.  When  a  few 
minutes  had  passed  and  she  heard  a  carriage  out 
side,  she  sprang  up  wildly,  with  the  thought  that  he 
might  be  going.  She  had  run  half  way  to  the  door 
before  she  recollected  that  the  carriage  must  be 
for  the  lieutenant,  and  then  she  stopped  and  stood 
still  in  the  darkness,  twisting  her  hands  together 
nervously  and  asking  herself  what  she  could  do. 

It  occurred  to  her  that  she  could  look  down  the 
piazza  from  the  window  of  the  room,  and  so  she 
went  swiftly  to  it.  The  officer  was  just  descending 
to  the  carriage,  Mr.  Roberts  with  him,  and  her  aunt 
and  Mr.  Howard  standing  at  the  top  of  the  steps, 
the  latter's  figure  clearly  outlined  in  the  moonlight. 
Helen's  heart  was  so  full  of  despair  and  yearning 
just  then  that  she  could  have  rushed  out  and  flung 
herself  at  his  feet,  had  he  been  alone;  but  she  felt 

210 


KING  MIDAS 

a  new  kind  of  shrinking  from  her  aunt.  She  stood 
hesitating,  therefore,  muttering  to  herself,  "I  must 
let  him  know  about  it  somehow,  and  he  will  tell  me 
what  to  do.  Oh,  I  WMX//  And  I  must  tell  him  now, 
before  it  is  too  late!" 

She  stood  by  the  window,  panting  arid  almost 
choking  with  her  emotion,  kneading  her  hands  one 
upon  the  other  in  frenzied  agitation ;  and  then  she 
heard  Mr.  Howard  say  to  her  aunt,  ''I  shall  have  to 
ask  you  to  excuse  me  now,  for  I  must  not  forget 
that  I  am  an  invalid.1'  And  Helen  clutched  her 
burning  temples,  seeing  him  turn  to  enter  the 
house,  and  seeing  that  her  chance  was  going.  She 
glanced  around  her,  almost  desperate,  and  then  sud 
denly  her  heart  gave  a  great  leap,  for  just  beside 
her  was  something  that  had  brought  one  resource 
to  her  mind.  She  had  seen  the  piano  in  the  dim 
light,  and  had  thought  suddenly  of  the  song  that 
Mr.  Howard  had  mentioned. 

"He  will  remember!''  she  thought  swiftly,  as  she 
ran  to  the  instrument  and  sat  down  before  it.  With 
a  strength  born  of  her  desperation  she  mastered 
the  quivering  of  her  hands,  and  catching  her  breath, 
began  in  a  weak  and  trembling  voice  the  melody  of 
Rubenstein: 

"Thou  art  as  a  flower. 

So  pure  and  fair  thou  art; 
I  gaze  on  thee,  and  sorrow 
Doth  steal  into  my  heart. 

"I  would  lay  my  hands  upon  thee, 

Upon    thy    snowy    brow, 
And  pray  that  God  might  keep  thee 
So  pure   and   fair   as   now." 

Helen  did  not  know  how  she  was  singing,  she 
thought  only  of  telling  her  yearning  and  her  pain; 

211 


KING  MIDAS 

she  was  so  choked  with  emotion  that  she  could 
scarcely  utter  a  sound  at  all,  and  the  song  must 
have  startled  those  who  heard  it.  It  was  laden 
with  all  the  tears  that  had  been  gathering  in 
Helen's  heart  for  days. 

She  did  not  finish  the  song;  she  was  thinking, 
"Will  he  understand?'1  She  stopped  suddenly  as 
she  saw  a  shadow  upon  the  porch  outside,  telling 
her  that  Mr  Howard  had  come  nearer.  There  was 
a  minute  or  so  of  breathless  suspense  and  then,  as 
the  shadow  began  to  draw  slowly  backwards,  Helen 
clenched  her  hands  convulsively,  whispering  to  her 
self,  "He  will  think  it  was  only  an  accident!  Oh, 
what  can  I  do?" 

There  are  some  people  all  of  whose  emotions  take 
the  form  of  music ;  there  came  into  Helen's  mind  at 
that  instant  a  melody  that  was  the  very  soul  of 
her  agitation  and  her  longing — MacDowelFs  "To  a 
Water  Lily;"  the  girl  thought  of  what  Mr.  Howard 
had  said  about  the  feeling  that  comes  to  suffering 
mortals  at  the  sight  of  something  perfect  and 
serene,  and  she  began  playing  the  little  piece,  very 
softly,  and  with  trembling  hands. 

It  is  quite  wonderful  music;  to  Helen  with  her 
heart  full  of  grief  and  despair,  the  chords  that 
floated  so  cold  and  white  and  high  were  almost  too 
much  to  be  borne.  She  played  desperately  on,  how 
ever,  because  she  saw  that  Mr.  Howard  had  stopped 
again,  and  she  did  not  believe  that  he  could  fail  to 
understand  that  music. 

So  she  continued  until  she  came  to  the  pleading 
song  of  the  swan.  The  music  is  written  to  a  poem 
of  GeibeFs  which  tells  of  the  snow-white  lily,  and 

212 


In  dreamy,  swaving  thvthnt. 


Pcd.  Fed.    Ped.    r  *  'Ped.     r*  * 


The  accompaniment  very  softly. 


*—  :g. ~^~         —^.-^^=-^ 


-'•-••    -zy  ft^-  •c-'-  •t-t-  -*•        r-; 

f~          l~      !~       i 


-&~ 
t: 


KING  MIDAS 

of  the  bird  which  wonders  at  its  beauty;  after 
wards,  because  there  is  nothing  in  all  nature  more 
cold  and  unapproachable  than  a  water-lily,  and 
because  one  might  sing  to  it  all  day  and  never 
fancy  that  it  heard  him,  the  first  melody  rises 
again,  as  keen  and  as  high  as  ever,  and  one  knows 
that  his  yearning  is  in  vain,  and  that  there  is  noth 
ing  for  him  but  his  old  despair.  When  Helen  came 
to  that  she  could  go  no  farther,  for  her  wretched 
ness  had  been  heaping  itself  up,  and  her  heart  was 
bursting  Her  fingers  gave  way  as  she  struck  the 
keys,  and  she  sank  down  and  hid  her  face  in  her 
arms,  and  broke  into  wild  and  passionate  sobbing. 
She  was  almost  choking  with  her  pent-up  emotions, 
so  shaken  that  she  was  no  longer  conscious  of 
what  went  on  about  her.  She  did  not  hear  Mr. 
Howard's  voice,  as  he  entered,  and  she  did  not  even 
hear  the  frightened  exclamations  of  her  aunt,  until 
the  latter  had  flung  her  arms  about  her  Then  she 
sprang  up  and  tore  herself  loose  by  main  force,  rush 
ing  upstairs  and  locking  herself  in  her  own  room, 
where  she  flung  herself  down  upon  the  bed  and  wept 
until  she  could  weep  no  more,  in  the  meantime  not 
even  hearing  her  aunt's  voice  from  the.  hallway,  and 
altogether  unconscious  of  the  flight  of  time. 

When  she  sat  up  and  brushed  away  her  tangled 
hair  and  gazed  about  her,  everything  in  the  house 
was  silent.  She  herself  was  exhausted,  but  she 
rose,  and  after  pacing  up  and  down  the  room  a 
IV w  minutes,  seated  herself  at  the  writing  desk,  and 
in  spite  of  her  trembling  fingers,  wrote  a  short  note 
to  Mr.  Gerald  Harrison;  then  with  a  deep  breath 


213 


KING  MIDAS 

of  relief,  she  rose,  and  going  to  the  window  knelt 
down  in  front  of  it  and  gazed  out. 

The  moon  was  high  in  the  sky  by  that  time,  and 
the  landscape  about  her  was  flooded  with  its  light. 
Everything  was  so  calm  and  still  that  the  girl  held 
her  breath  as  she  watched  it;  but  suddenly  she 
gave  a  start,  for  she  heard  the  sound  of  a  violin 
again,  so  very  faint  that  she  at  first  thought  she 
was  deluding  herself.  As  she  listened,  however, 
she  heard  it  more  plainly,  and  then  she  realized  in 
a  flash  that  Mr.  Howard  must  have  heard  her  long- 
continued  sobbing,  and  that  he  was  playing  some 
thing  for  her.  It  was  Schumann's  "Traumerei;"  and 
as  the  girl  knelt  there  her  soul  was  borne  away  upon 
the  wings  of  that  heavenly  melody,  and  there  welled 
up  in  her  heart  a  new  and  very  different  emotion 
from  any  that  she  had  ever  known  before;  it  was 
born,  half  of  the  music,  and  half  of  the  calm  and 
the  stillness  of  the  night, — that  wonderful  peace 
which  may  come  to  mortals  either  in  victory  or  de 
feat,  when  they  give  up  their  weakness  and  their 
fear,  and  become  aware  of  the  Infinite  Presence. 
When  the  melody  had  died  away,  and  Helen  rose, 
there  was  a  new  light  in  her  eyes,  and  a  new  beauty 
upon  her  countenance,  and  she  knew  that  her  soul 
was  right  at  last. 


214 


CHAPTER  X 

"Our  acts  our  angels  are,  or  good  or  ill, 
Our  fatal  shadows  that  walk  by  us  still." 

NATURALLY  there  was  considerable  agitation  in 
the  Roberts  family  on  account  of  Helen's  strange 
behavior;  early  the  next  morning  Mrs.  Roberts  was 
at  her  niece's  door,  trying  to  gain  admittance.  This 
time  she  did  not  have  to  knock  but  once,  and  when 
she  entered  she  was  surprised  to  see  that  Helen 
was  already  up  and  dressing.  She  had  been  expect 
ing  to  find  the  girl  more  prostrated  than  ever,  and 
so  the  discovery  was  a  great  relief  to  her;  she  stood 
gazing  at  her  anxiously. 

"Helen,  dear,"  she  said,  "I  scarcely  know  how  to 
begin  to  talk  to  you  about  your  extraordinary " 

4kl  wish,"  interrupted  Helen,  "that  you  would  not 
begin  to  talk  to  me  about  it  at  all." 

"But  you  must  explain  to  me  what  in  the  world  is 
the  matter,"  protested  the  other. 

"I  cannot  possibly  explain  to  you,"  was  the 
abrupt  reply.  Helen's  voice  was  firm,  and  there 
was  a  determined  look  upon  her  face,  a  look  which 
quite  took  her  aunt  by  surprise. 

"But,  my  dear  girl!"  she  began  once  more. 

"Aunt  Polly!"  said  the  other,  interrupting  her 
again,  "I  wish  instead  of  talking  about  it  you  would 
listen  to  what  I  have  to  say  for  a  few  moments. 

215 


KING  MIDAS 

For  I  have  made  up  my  mind  just  what  I  am  going 
to  do,  and  I  am  going  to  take  the  reins  in  my  own 
hands  and  not  do  any  arguing  or  explaining  to  any 
one.  And  there  is  no  use  of  asking  me  a  word 
about  what  has  happened,  for  I  could  not  hope  to 
make  you  understand  me,  and  I  do  not  mean  to 
try." 

As  Helen  uttered  those  words  she  fixed  her  eyes 
upon  her  aunt  with  an  unflinching  gaze,  with  the 
result  that  Mrs.  Roberts  was  quite  too  much  taken 
aback  to  find  a  word  to  say. 

Without  waiting  for  anything  more  Helen  turned 
to  the  table.  "Here  is  a  letter,"  she  said,  "which 
I  have  written  to  Mr.  Harrison;  you  know  his  ad 
dress  in  New  York,  I  suppose?" 

"His  address?"  stammered  the  other;  "why, — 
yes,  of  course.  But  what  in  the  world 

"I  wish  this  letter  delivered  to  him  at  once,  Aunt 
Polly,"  Helen  continued.  "It  is  of  the  utmost  im 
portance,  and  I  want  you  to  do  me  the  favor  to  send 
someone  into  the  city  with  it  by  the  next  train." 

uBut,  Helen,  dear— 

"Now  please  do  not  ask  me  anything  about  it," 
went  on  the  girl,  impatiently.  "I  have  told  you  that 
you  must  let  me  manage  this  affair  myself.  If  you 
will  not  send  it  I  shall  simply  have  to  get  someone 
to  take  it.  He  must  have  it,  and  have  it  at  once." 

"Will  it  not  do  to  mail  it,  Helen?" 

"No,  because  I  wish  him  to  get  it  this  morning." 
And  Helen  put  the  letter  into  her  aunt's  hands, 
while  the  latter  gazed  helplessly,  first  at  it,  and 
then  at  the  girl.  There  is  an  essay  of  Bacon's  in 
which  is  set  forth  the  truth  that  you  can  bewilder 

216 


KING  MIDAS 

and  master  anyone  if  you  are  only  sufficiently  bold 
and  rapid;  Mrs.  Roberts  was  so  used  to  managing 
everything  and  being  looked  up  to  by  everyone  that 
Helen's  present  mood  left  her  quite  dazed. 

Nor  did  the  girl  give  her  any  time  to  recover  her 
presence  of  mind.  "There  is  only  one  thing  more," 
she  said,  "I  want  you  to  have  breakfast  as  soon  as 
you  can,  and  then  to  let  me  have  a  carriage  at 
once." 

"A  carriage?"  echoed  the  other. 

"Yes,  Aunt  Polly,  I  wish  to  drive  over  to  Hill- 
town  immediately." 

"To  Hilltown!"  gasped  Aunt  Polly  with  yet 
greater  consternation,  and  showing  signs  of  resist 
ance  at  last;  "pray  what— 

But  Helen  only  came  again  to  the  attack,  with 
yet  more  audacity  and  confidence.  "Yes/'  she  said, 
"to  Hilltown;  I  mean  to  go  to  see  Arthur." 

For  answer  to  that  last  statement,  poor  Mrs, 
Roberts  had  simply  no  words  whatever;  she  could 
only  gaze,  and  in  the  meantime,  Helen  was  going 
calmly  on  with  her  dressing,  as  if  the  matter  were 
settled. 

"Will  Mr.  Howard  be  down  to  breakfast?"  she 
asked. 

"As  he  is  going  away  to-day,  I  presume  he  will 
be  down,"  was  the  reply,  after  which  Helen  quickly 
completed  her  toilet,  her  aunt  standing  by  and 
watching  her  in  the  meantime. 

"Helen,  dear,"  she  asked  at  last,  after  having  re 
covered  her  faculties  a  trifle,  "do  you  really  mean 
that  you  will  not  explain  to  me  a  thing  of  what  has 
happened,  or  of  what  yon  are  doing?" 

217 


KING  MIDAS 

"There  is  so  much,  Aunt  Polly,  that  I  cannot 
possibly  explain  it  now;  I  have  too  much  else  to 
think  of.  You  must  simply  let  me  go  my  way,  and 
I  will  tell  you  afterwards." 

"But,  Helen,  is  that  the  right  way  to  treat  me? 
Is  it  nothing  to  you,  all  the  interest  that  I  have 
taken  in  this  and  all  that  I  have  done  for  you,  that 
you  should  think  so  little  of  my  advice?" 

"I  do  not  need  any  advice  now,"  was  the  answer. 
"Aunt  Polly,  I  see  exactly  what  I  should  do,  and  I 
do  not  mean  to  stop  a  minute  for  anything  else  until 
I  have  done  it.  If  it  seems  unkind,  I  am  very  sorry, 
but  in  the  meantime  it  must  be  done." 

And  while  she  was  saying  the  words,  Helen  was 
putting  on  her  hat;  then  taking  up  her  parasol  and 
gloves  she  turned  towards  her  aunt.  "I  am  ready 
now,"  she  said,  "and  please  let  me  have  breakfast 
just  as  soon  as  you  can." 

The  girl  was  so  much  preoccupied  with  her  own 
thoughts  and  purposes  that  she  scarcely  even  heard 
what  her  aunt  said;  she  went  down  into  the  garden 
where  she  could  be  alone,  and  paced  up  and  down 
impatiently  until  she  heard  the  bell.  Then  she 
went  up  into  the  dining  room,  where  she  found  her 
aunt  and  uncle  in  conversation  with  Mr.  Howard. 

Helen  had  long  been  preparing  herself  to  meet 
him,  but  she  could  not  keep  her  cheeks  from  flush 
ing  or  keep  from  lowering  her  eyes;  she  bit  her  lips 
together,  however,  and  forced  herself  to  look  at 
him,  saying  very  resolutely,  "Mr.  Howard,  I  have 
to  drive  over  to  Hilltown  after  breakfast,  and  I 
wish  very  much  to  talk  to  you  about  something; 
would  you  like  to  drive  with  me?" 

218 


KING  MIDAS 

"Very  much  indeed,"  said  he,  quietly,  after  which 
Helen  said  not  a  word  moro.  She  saw  that  her  aunt 
and  uncle  were  gazing  at  her  and  at  each  other  in 
silent  wonder,  but  she  paid  no  attention  to  it. 
After  eating  a  few  hurried  mouthfuls  she  excused 
herself,  and  rose  and  went  outside,  where  she  saw 
the  driving-cart  which  had  been  bought  for  her  use, 
waiting  for  her.  It  was  not  much  longer  before 
Mr.  Howard  was  ready,  for  he  saw  her  agitation. 

"It  is  rather  a  strange  hour  to  start  upon  a  drive," 
she  said  to  him,  "but  I  have  real  cause  for  hurry 
ing;  I  will  explain  about  it."  And  then  she  stopped, 
as  her  aunt  came  out  to  join  them. 

It  was  only  a  moment  more  before  Mr.  Howard 
had  excused  himself,  and  the  two  were  in  the 
wagon,  Helen  taking  the  reins.  She  waved  a  fare 
well  to  her  aunt  and  then  started  the  horse,  and 
they  were  whirled  swiftly  away  down  the  road. 

All  the  morning  Helen's  mind  had  been  filled  with 
things  that  she  wished  to  say  to  Mr.  Howard.  But 
now  all  her  resolution  seemed  to  have  left  her,  and 
she  was  trembling  very  much,  and  staring  straight 
ahead,  busying  herself  with  guiding  the  horse. 
When  they  were  out  upon  the  main  road  where 
they  might  go  as  fast  as  they  pleased  without  that 
necessity,  she  swallowed  the  lump  in  her  throat  and 
made  one  or  two  nervous  attempts  to  speak. 

Mr.  Howard  in  the  meantime  had  been  gazing  in 
front  of  him  thoughtfully.  "Miss  Davis,"  he  said 
suddenly,  turning  his  eyes  upon  her,  "may  I  ask 
you  a  question?" 

"Yes/'  said  Helen  faintly. 

"You  heard  all  that  I  said  about  you  last  night?" 

319 


KING  MIDAS 

And  Helen  turned  very  red  and  looked  away. 
"Yes,  I  heard  it  all,"  she  said;  and  then  there  was 
a  long  silence. 

It  was  broken  by  the  man,  who  began  in  a  low 
voice:  "I  scarcely  know  how,  Miss  Davis,  I  can 
apologize  to  you " 

And  then  he  stopped  short,  for  the  girl  had 
turned  her  glance  upon  him,  wonderingly.  "Apol 
ogize?"  she  said;  she  had  never  once  thought  of  that 
view  of  it,  and  the  word  took  her  by  surprise, 

"Yes,"  said  Mr.  Howard;  "I  said  so  many  hard 
and  cruel  things  that  I  cannot  bear  to  think  of 
them." 

Helen  still  kept  her  eyes  fixed  upon  him,  as  she 
said,  "Did  you  say  anything  that  was  not  true,  Mr. 
Howard?" 

The  man  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  he  an 
swered  :  "I  said  many  things  that  I  had  no  right  to 
say  to  you." 

"That  is  not  it,"  said  Helen  simply.  "Did  you 
say  anything  that  was  not  true?" 

Again  Mr.  Howard  paused  "I  am  quite  sure 
that  I  did,"  he  said  at  last.  "Most  of  what  I  said 
I  feel  to  have  been  untrue  since  I  have  seen  how  it 
affected  you." 

"Because  it  made  me  so  ashamed?"  said  Helen. 
And  then  some  of  the  thoughts  that  possessed  her 
forced  their  way  out,  and  she  hurried  on  impetu 
ously:  "That  was  the  first  thing  I  wanted  to  tell 
you.  It  is  really  true  that  you  were  wrong,  for  I 
am  not  hard-hearted  at  all.  It  was  something  that 
my — that  people  were  making  me  do,  and  all  the 
time  I  was  wretched.  It  was  dreadful,  I  know, 

220 


KING  MIDAS 

but  I  was  tempted,  because  I  do  love  beautiful 
things.  And  it  was  all  so  sudden,  and  I  could  not 
realize  it,  and  I  had  nobody  to  advise  me,  for  none 
of  the  people  I  meet  would  think  it  was  wrong. 
You  must  talk  to  me  and  help  me,  because  I've  got 
to  be  very  strong;  my  aunt  will  be  angry,  and  when 
I  get  back  perhaps  Mr.  Harrison  will  be  there,  and 
I  shall  have  to  tell  him." 

Then  the  girl  stopped,  out  of  breath  and  trem 
bling  with  excitement;  Mr.  Howard  turned  ab 
ruptly  and  fixed  his  dark  eyes  upon  her. 

"Tell  him,"  he  said.    "Tell  him  what?" 

''That  I  shall  not  marry  him,  of  course,"  an 
swered  Helen;  the  other  gave  a  start,  but  she  was 
so  eager  that  she  did  not  even  notice  it.  "I  could 
not  lose  a  minute,"  she  said.  "For  it  was  so  very 
dreadful,  you  know." 

"And  you  really  mean  not  to  marry  him?"  asked 
the  other. 

"Mean  it!"  echoed  the  girl,  opening  her  eyes  very 
wide.  "Why,  how  in  the  world  could  you  sup 
pose —  "  And  then  she  stopped  short,  and  laughed 
nervously.  "Of  course,"  she  said,  "I  forgot;  you 
might  suppose  anything.  But,  oh,  if  I  could  tell 
you  how  I  have  suffered,  Mr.  Howard,  you  would 
understand  that  I  could  never  have  such  a  thought 
again  in  the  world.  Please  do  understand  me,  for 
if  I  had  really  been  so  base  I  should  not  come  to 
you  as  .1  do  after  what  I  heard.  I  cannot  tell  you 
how  dreadfully  I  suffered  while  I  was  listening,  but 
after  I  had  cried  so  much  about  it,  I  felt  better, 
and  it  seemed  to  me  that  it  was  the  best  thing  that 
could  have  happened  to  me,  just  to  see  my  actions 

221 


KING  MIDAS 

as  they  seemed  to  someone  else, — to  someone  who 
was  good.  I  saw  all  at  once  the  truth  of  what  I 
was  doing,  and  it  was  agony  to  me  to  know  that 
you  thought  so  of  me.  That  was  why  I  could  not 
rest  last  night  until  I  had  told  you  that  I  was 
really  unhappy;  for  it  was  something  that  I  was 
unhappy,  wasn't  it,  Mr.  Howard?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  other,  "it  was  very  much  in 
deed." 

"And  oh,  I  want  you  to  know  the  truth,"  Helen 
went  on  swiftly.  "Perhaps  it  is  just  egotism  on  my 
part,  and  I  have  really  no  right  to  tell  you  all  about 
myself  in  this  way;  and  perhaps  you  will  scorn  me 
when  you  come  to  know  the  whole  truth.  But  I 
cannot  help  telling  you  about  it,  so  that  you  may 
advise  me  what  to  do;  I  was  all  helpless  and  lost, 
and  what  you  said  came  last  night  like  a  wonderful 
light.  And  I  don't  care  what  you  think  about  me 
if  you  will  only  tell  me  the  real  truth,  in  just  the 
same  way  that  you  did;  for  I  realized  afterwards 
that  it  was  that  which  had  helped  me  so.  It  was 
the  first  time  in  my  life  that  it  had  ever  happened 
to  me;  when  you  meet  people  in  the  world,  they 
only  say  things  that  they  know  will  please  you,  and 
that  does  you  no  good.  I  never  realized  before 
how  a  person  might  go  through  the  world  and  really 
never  meet  with  another  heart  in  all  his  life;  and 
that  one  can  be  fearfully  lonely,  even  in  a  parlor 
full  of  people.  Did  you  ever  think  of  that,  Mr. 
Howard?" 

Mr.  Howard  had  fixed  his  keen  eyes  upon  the  girl 
as  she  went  breathlessly  on;  she  was  very  pale,  and 
the  sorrow  through  which  she  had  passed  had  left 

222 


KING  MIDAS 

quite  a  new  beauty  upon  her  face.  "Yes,"  he  said, 
"I  have  thought  of  that." 

"It  is  foolish  for  ine  to  ask  you,"  Helen  continued, 
"but  I  have  just  discovered  it  for  myself,  and  it 
seems  very  wrong.  I  wanted  to  ask  you  if  you 
would  not  always  speak  the  truth  to  me,  just  as  you 
did  last  night;  if  I  could  not  bear  it,  it  would  be 
because  I  was  still  wrong.  I  got  very  much  ex 
cited  as  I  thought  of  that,  because  I  recollected 
what  you  said  about  wishing  to  help  me  if  I  would 
only  appreciate  it.  I  wanted  to  tell  you  that  I 
would,  or  try  to.  I  think  you  were  wrong  in  not 
telling  me  before,  because  these  people  who  live  so 
very  selfishly  must  do  it  just  because  they  never 
realize  it.  I  really  want  you  to  advise  me,  and  tell 
me  how  I  can  set  my  life  right;  I  cannot  help  feel 
ing  that  I  might  some  day  become  the  kind  of 
woman  that  I  ought  to  be,  to  deserve  the  beauty 
that  God  has  given  me.  And  when  I  told  you  that 
I  needed  strength,  I  meant  really  for  that,  and  not 
because  I  feared  I  might  go  on  in  my  great  wrong; 
for  it  really  makes  me  suffer  dreadfully,  even  to 
think  of  that — that  marriage." 

Helen  stopped,  and  there  was  a  minute  of  silence. 
She  glanced  once  nervously  at  the  man,  whose  eyes 
were  still  fixed  upon  her  countenance;  and  then  she 
went  on,  staring  straight  ahead  of  her,  her  lips 
trembling. 

"Mr.  Howard,"  she  said,  "you  cannot  imagine  how 
hard  it  is  for  me,  after  I  have  suffered  so  to  know 
what  you  think  of  me,  to  have  to  tell  you  more 
things  yet.  But,  oh,  I  have  done  them,  and  I  can 
not  ever  be  set  right  until  I  have  told  you;  you 

223 


KING  MIDAS 

will  think  I  have  been  so  cold  and  wicked,  that  you 
will  soon  scorn  me  altogether." 

"I  do  not  think  that  is  possible,"  said  her  com 
panion,  gently,  as  he  saw  the  girl  choking  back  a 
sob. 

"Well,  listen  then,"  Helen  began;  but  then  she 
stopped  again.  "Do  you  wish  me  to  tell  you?"  she 
asked.  "Do  you  care  anything  about  it  at  all,  or 
does  it  seem " 

"I  care  very  much  about  it,  indeed/'  the  other 
answered. 

"However  dreadful  it  may  seem,"  said  Helen. 
"Oh,  please  know  that  while  I  have  been  doing  it, 
it  has  made  me  utterly  wretched,  and  that  I  am  so 
frightened  now  that  I  can  scarcely  talk  to  you; 
and  that  if  there  is  anything  that  I  can  do — oh, 
absolutely  anything — I  will  do  it!"  Then  the  girl 
bit  her  lips  together  and  went  on  with  desperate 
haste,  "It's  what  you  said  about  what  would  hap 
pen  if  there  were  someone  else  to  love  me,  and  to 
see  how  very  bad  I  was!" 

"There  is  some  such  person?"  asked  the  man,  in 
a  low  voice. 

"Yes,"  said  she.  "It  is  someone  I  have  known 
as  long  as  I  can  remember.  And  he  loves  me  very 
much  indeed,  I  think;  and  while  I  was  letting  my 
self  be  tempted  in  this  way  he  was  very  sick,  and 
because  I  knew  I  was  so  bad  I  did  not  dare  go  near 
him;  and  yesterday  when  he  heard  I  was  going  to 
marry  this  man,  it  almost  killed  him,  and  I  do  not 
know  what  to  fear  now." 

Then,  punishing  herself  very  bravely  and  swallow 
ing  all  her  bitter  shame,  Helen  went  on  to  tell  Mr. 

224 


KING  MIDAS 

Howard  of  Arthur,  and  of  her  friendship  with  him, 
and  of  how  long  he  had  waited  for  her;  she  narrated 
in  a  few  words  how  he  had  left  her,  and  then  how 
she  had  seen  him  upon  the  road.  Afterwards  she 
stopped  and  sat  very  still,  trembling,  and  with  her 
eyes  lowered,  quite  forgetting  that  she  was  driving. 

"Miss  Davis,"  said  the  other,  gently,  seeing  how 
she  was  suffering,  uif  you  wish  my  advice  about 
this,  I  should  not  worry  myself  too  much;  it  is 
better,  .1  find  in  my  own  soul's  life,  to  save  most 
of  the  time  that  one  spends  upon  remorse,  and  de 
vote  it  to  action." 

"To  action?"  asked  Helen. 

"Yes,"  said  the  other.  "You  have  been  very 
thoughtless,  but  you  may  hope  that  nothing  irrev 
ocable  has  happened;  and  when  you  have  seen 
your  friend  and  told  him  the  truth  just  as 
you  have  told  it  to  me,  I  fancy  it  will  bring  him 
joy  enough  to  compensate  him  for  what  he  has 
suffered." 

"That  was  what  I  meant  to  do,"  the  girl  went 
on.  "But  I  have  been  terrified  by  all  sorts  of 
fancies,  and  when  I  remember  how  much  pain  I 
caused  him,  I  scarcely  dare  think  of  speaking  to 
him.  When  I  saw  him  by  the  roadside,  Mr.  How 
ard,  he  seemed  to  me  to  look  exactly  like  you,  there 
was  such  dreadful  suffering  written  in  his  face." 

"A  man  who  lives  as  you  have  told  me  your 
friend  has  lived,"  said  the  other,  "has  usually  a 
very  great  power  of  suffering;  such  a  man  builds 
for  himself  an  ideal  which  gives  him  all  his  joy 
and  his  power,  and  makes  his  life  a  very  glorious 
thing;  but  when  anything  happens  to  destroy  his 

IS  225 


KING  MIDAS 

vision  or  to  keep  him  from  seeking  it,  he  suffers 
with  the  same  intensity  that  he  rejoiced  before. 
The  great  hunger  that  was  once  the  source  of  his 
power  only  tears  him  to  pieces  then,  as  steam 
wrecks  a  broken  engine." 

"It's  very  dreadful,"  Helen  said,  "how  thought 
less  I  was  all  along.  I  only  knew  that  he  loved  me 
very  much,  and  that  it  was  a  vexation  to  me." 

Mr.  Howard  glanced  at  her.  "You  do  not  love 
him?"  he  asked. 

"No,"  said  Helen,  quickly.  "If  I  had  loved  him, 
I  could  never  have  had  a  thought  of  all  these  other 
things.  But  I  had  no  wish  to  love  anybody;  it  was 
more  of  my  selfishness." 

"Perhaps  not,"  the  other  replied  gently.  "Some 
day  you  may  come  to  love  him,  Miss  Davis." 

"I  do  not  know,"  Helen  said.  "Arthur  was  very 
impatient." 

"When  a  man  is  swift  and  eager  in  all  his  life," 
said  Mr.  Howard,  smiling,  "he  cannot  well  be  other 
wise  in  his  love.  Such  devotion  ought  to  be  very 
precious  to  a  woman,  for  such  hearts  are  not  easy 
to  find  in  the  world." 

Helen  had  turned  and  was  gazing  anxiously  at 
Mr.  Howard  as  he  spoke  to  her  thus.  "You  really 
think,"  she  said,  "that  I  should  learn  to  appre 
ciate  Arthur's  love?" 

"I  cannot  know  much  about  him  from  the  little 
you  have  told  me,"  was  the  other's  answer.  "But 
it  seems  to  me  that  it  is  there  you  might  find  the 
best  chance  to  become  the  unselfish  woman  that 
you  wish  to  be." 

"It  is  very  strange,"  the  girl  responded,  wonder- 

226 


KING  MIDAS 

ingly,  "how  differently  you  think  about  it.  I  should 
have  supposed  I  was  acting  very  unwisely  indeed 
if  I  loved  Arthur;  everyone  would  have  told  me  of 
his  poverty  and  obscurity,  and  of  how  I  must  give 
up  my  social  career." 

"I  think  differently,  perhaps,"  Mr.  Howard  said, 
"because  I  have  lived  so  much  alone.  I  have  come 
to  know  that  happiness  is  a  thing  of  one's  own 
heart,  and  not  of  externals;  the  questions  I  should 
ask  about  a  marriage  would  not  be  of  wealth  and 
position.  If  you  really  wish  to  seek  the  precious 
things  of  the  soul,  I  should  think  you  would  be 
very  glad  to  prove  it  by  some  sacrifice;  and  I  know 
that  two  hearts  are  brought  closer,  and  all  the 
memories  of  life  made  dearer,  by  some  such  trial 
in  the  early  days.  People  sneer  at  love  in  a  cottage, 
but  I  am  sure  that  love  that  could  wish  to  live  any 
where  else  is  not  love.  And  as  to  the  social  career, 
a  person  who  has  once  come  to  know  the  life  of  the 
heart  soon  ceases  to  care  for  any  kind  of  life  that 
is  heartless;  a  social  career  is  certainly  that,  and 
in  comparison  very  vulgar  indeed." 

Helen  looked  a  little  puzzled,  and  repeated  the 
word  "vulgar"  inquiringly.  Mr  Howard  smiled. 

"That  is  the  word  I  always  use  when  I  am  talk 
ing  about  high  life,"  he  said,  laughing.  "You  may 
hurl  the  words  'selfish'  and  'worldly'  at  it  all  you 
please,  and  never  reach  a  vital  spot;  but  the  word 
'vulgar-  goes  straight  to  the  heart." 

"You  must  explain  to  me  why  it  is  that,"  said 
Helen,  with  so  much  seriousness  that  the  other 
could  not  help  smiling  again. 

"Perhaps  I  cannot  make  anyone  else  see  the  thing 
227 


KING  MIDAS 

ag  I  do,"  was  his  reply.  "And  yet  it  seems  rery 
staple  When  a  man  lives  a  while  in  h.s  own  soul, 
n  becomes  aware  of  the  existence  of  a  certain 


Mr. 


thev  may  have  ease  and  luxury.     That 


girl  sat  very  still  after  that,  trembling  a  lit- 

228 


KING  MIDAS 

tie  in  her  heart;  finally  she  asked,  her  voice  shaking 
slightly,  "Mr.  Howard,  what  can  one  do  about  such 
things?" 

"Very  little,"  was  the  reply,  "for  they  must 
always  be;  but  at  least  one  can  keep  his  own  life 
earnest  and  true.  A  woman  who  felt  such  things 
very  keenly  might  be  an  inspiration  to  a  man  who 
was  called  upon  to  battle  with  selfishness  and  evil." 

"You  are  thinking  of  Arthur  once  more?"  asked 
the  girl. 

"Yes,"  answered  the  other,  with  a  slight  smile. 
"It  would  be  a  happy  memory  for  me,  to  know  that 
I  have  been  able  to  give  you  such  an  ideal.  Some  of 
these  days,  you  see,  I  am  hoping  that  we  shall 
again  have  a  poet  with  a  conviction  and  a  voice,  so 
that  men  may  know  that  sympathy  and  love  are 
things  as  real  as  money.  I  am  quite  sure  there 
never  was  a  nation  so  ridiculously  sodden  as  our 
own  just  at  present;  all  of  our  maxims  and  ways 
of  life  are  as  if  we  were  the  queer  little  Niebelung 
rreatures  that  dig  for  treasure  in  the  bowels  of  the 
earth,  and  see  no  farther  than  the  ends  of  their 
shovels;  we  live  in  the  City  of  God,  and  spend  all 
our  time  scraping  the  gold  of  the  pavements.  Your 
uncle  told  me  this  morning  that  he  did  not  see  why 
a  boy  should  go  to  college  when  he  can  get  a  higher 
salary  if  he  spends  the  four  years  in  business.  I 
find  that  there  is  nothing  to  do  but  to  run  away 
and  live  alone,  if  one  wants  really  to  believe  that 
man  is  a  spiritual  nature,  with  an  infinite  possibility 
of  wonder  and  love;  and  that  the  one  business  of  his 
life  is  to  develop  that  nature  by  contact  with  things 
about  him;  and  that  every  act  of  narrow  selfishness 

229 


KING  MIDAS 

he  commits  is  a  veil  which  he  ties  about  his  own 
eyes,  and  that  when  he  has  tied  enough  of  them, 
not  all  the  pearl  and  gold  of  the  gorgeous  East  can 
make  him  less  a  pitiable  wretch." 

Mr.  Howard  stopped  again,  and  smiled  slightly; 
Helen  sat  gazing  thoughtfully  ahead,  thinking  about 
his  way  of  looking  at  life,  and  how  very  strange  her 
own  actions  seemed  in  the  light  of  it.  Suddenly,  how 
ever,  because  throughout  all  the  conversation  there 
had  been  another  thought  in  her  consciousness,  she 
glanced  ahead  and  urged  the  horse  even  faster. 
She  saw  far  in  the  distance  the  houses  of  the  place 
to  which  she  was  bound,  and  she  said  nothing  more, 
her  companion  also  becoming  silent  as  he  perceived 
her  agitation. 

Helen  had  been  constantly  growing  more  anxious, 
so  that  now  the  carriage  could  not  travel  fast 
enough?  it  seemed  to  her  that  everything  depended 
upon  what  she  might  find  at  Hill  town.  It  was  only 
the  thought  of  Arthur  that  kept  her  from  feeling 
completely  free  from  her  wretchedness;  she  felt 
that  she  might  remedy  all  the  wrong  that  she  had 
done,  and  win  once  more  the  prize  of  a  good  con 
science,  provided  only  that  nothing  irretrievable 
had  happened  to  him.  Now  as  she  came  nearer  she 
found  herself  imagining  more  and  more  what  might 
have,  happened,  and  becoming  more  and  more  im 
patient.  There  was  a  balance  dangling  before  her 
eyes,  with  utter  happiness  on  one  side  and  utter 
misery  on  the  other;  the  issue  depended  upon  what 
she  discovered  at  Hilltown. 

The  two  sat  in  silence,  both  thinking  of  the  same 
thing,  as  they  whirled  past  the  place  where  Helen 

230 


KING  MIDAS 

had  seen  Arthur  before.  The  girl  trembled  as  she 
glanced  at  it,  for  all  of  the  previous  day's  suffering 
rose  before  her  again,  and  made  her  fears  still 
more  real  and  importunate.  She  forced  herself  to 
look,  however,  half  thinking  that  she  might  see 
Arthur  again;  but  that  did  not  happen,  and  in  a 
minute  or  two  more  the  carriage  had  come  to  the 
house  where  he  lived.  She  gave  the  reins  to  Mr. 
Howard,  and  sprang  quickly  out;  she  rang  the  bell, 
and  then  stood  for  a  minute,  twitching  her  fingers, 
and  waiting. 

The  woman  who  kept  the  house,  and  whom  Helen 
knew  personally,  opened  the  door;  the  visitor 
stepped  in  and  gasped  out  breathlessly,  "Where  is 
Arthur?"  Her  hands  shook  visibly  as  she  waited 
for  the  reply. 

"He  is  not  in,  Miss  Davis,"  the  woman  answered. 

"Where  is  he?"  Helen  cried. 

"I  do  not  know,"  was  the  response.  "He  has 
gone." 

"Gone!"  And  the  girl  started  back,  catching  at 
her  heart.  "Gone  where?" 

"I  do  not  know,  Miss  Davis." 

"But  what "  began  the  other. 

"This  will  tell  you  all  I  know,"  said  the  woman, 
as  she  fumbled  in  her  apron,  and  put  a  scrap  of 
crumpled  paper  into  Helen's  trembling  hands. 

The  girl  seized  it  and  glanced  at  it;  then  she  stag 
gered  back  against  the  wall,  ghastly  pale  and  al 
most  sinking.  The  note,  in  Arthur's  hand,  but  so 
unsteady  as  to  be  almost  illegible,  ran  thus:  "You 
will  find  in  this  my  board  for  the  past  week;  I  am 

231 


KING  MIDAS 

compelled  to  leave  Hilltown,  and  .1  shall  not  ev«r 
return." 

And  that  was  all.  Helen  stared  at  it  and  stared 
again,  and  then  let  it  fall  and  gazed  about  her, 
echoing,  in  a  hollow  voice,  "And  I  shall  not  ever 
return!" 

"That  is  all  I  can  tell  you  about  it,"  went  on  the 
woman.  "I  have  not  seen  him  since  Elizabeth  was 
here  yesterday  morning;  he  came  back  late  last 
night  and  packed  his  bag  and  went  away." 

Helen  sank  down  upon  a  chair  and  buried  her 
face  in  her  hands,  quite  overwhelmed  by  the  sud 
denness  of  that  discovery.  She  remained  thus  for 
a  long  time,  without  either  sound  or  motion,  and 
the  woman  stood  watching  her,  knowing  full  well 
what  was  the  matter.  When  Helen  looked  up  again 
there  was  agony  written  upon  her  countenance. 
"Oh,  are  you  sure  you  have  no  idea  where  I  can  find 
him?"  she  moaned. 

"No,  Miss  Davis,"  said  the  woman.  "I  was  as 
tounded  when  I  got  this  note." 

"But  someone  must  know,  oh,  surely  they  must! 
Someone  must  have  seen  him, — or  he  must  have  told 
someone!" 

"I  think  it  likely  that  he  took  care  not  to,"  was 
the  reply. 

The  thought  was  a  death-knell  to  Helen's  last 
hope,  and  she  sank  down,  quite  overcome;  she  knew 
that  Arthur  could  have  had  but  one  motive  in  act 
ing  as  he  had, — that  he  meant  to  cut  himself  off 
entirely  from  all  his  old  life  and  surroundings.  He 
had  no  friends  in  Hilltown,  and  having  lived  all 
alone,  it  would  be  possible  for  him  to  do  it.  Helen 

232 


KING  MIDAS 

remembered  Mr.  Howard's  saying  of  the  night  be 
fore,  how  the  sight  of  her  baseness  might  wreck 
a  man's  life  forever,  and  the  more  she  thought  of 
that,  the  more  it  made  her  tremble.  It  seemed 
almost  more  than  she  could  bear  to  see  this  fearful 
consequence  of  her  sin,  and  to  know  that  it  had 
become  a  fact  of  the  outer  world,  and  gone  beyond 
her  power.  It  seemed  quite  too  cruel  that  she 
should  have  such  a  thing  on  her  conscience,  and 
have  it  there  forever;  most  maddening  of  all  was 
the  thought  that  it  had  depended  upon  a  few  hours 
of  time. 

"Oh,  how  can  I  have  waited!"  she  moaned.  "I 
should  have  come  last  night,  I  should  have  stopped 
the  carriage  when  I  saw  him!  Oh,  it  is  not 
possible!" 

Perhaps  there  are  no  more  tragic  words  in  human 
speech  than  "Too  late."  Helen  felt  just  then  as  if 
the  right  even  to  repentance  were  taken  from  her 
life.  It  was  her  first  introduction  to  that  fearful 
thing  of  which  Mr.  Howard  had  told  her  upon  their 
first  meeting;  in  the  deep  loneliness  of  her  own 
heart  Helen  was  face  to  face  just  then  with  Fate. 
She  shrank  back  in  terror,  and  she  struggled  fran 
tically,  but  she  felt  its  grip  of  steel  about  her 
wrist;  and  while  she  sat  there  with  her  face  hid 
den,  she  was  learning  to  gaze  into  its  eyes,  and 
front  their  fiery  terror.  When  she  looked  up  again 
her  face  was  very  white  and  pitiful  to  see,  and  she 
rose  from  her  chair  and  went  toward  the  door  so  un 
steadily  that  the  woman  put  her  arm  about  her. 

"You  will  tell  me,"  she  gasped  faintly — "you  will 
tell  me  if  you  hear  anything?" 

233 


KING  MIDAS 

"Yes,"  said  the  other  gently,  "I  will." 
So  Helen  crept  into  the  carriage  again,  looking 
so  full  of  wretchedness  that  her  companion  knew 
that  the  worst  must  have  happened,  and  took  the 
reins  and  silently  drove  towards  home,  while  the 
girl  sat  perfectly  still.  They  were  fully  half  way 
home  before  she  could  find  a  word  in  which  to  tell 
him  of  her  misery.  "I  shall  never  be  happy  in  my 
life  again!"  she  whispered.  "Oh,  Mr.  Howard, 
never  in  my  life!" 

When  the  man  gazed  at  her,  he  was  frightened 
to  see  how  grief  and  fear  had  taken  possession  of 
her  face;  and  yet  there  was  no  word  that  he  could 
say  to  soothe  her,  and  no  hope  that  he  could  give 
her.  When  the  drive  was  ended,  she  stole  silently 
up  to  her  room,  to  be  alone  with  her  misery  once 
more. 


234 


CHAPTER  XI. 

"Thou  majestic  in  thy  sadness." 

IJPON  the  present  occasion  there  was  no  violent 
demonstration  of  emotion  to  alarm  the  Roberts 
household,  for  Helen's  grief  was  not  of  the  kind 
to  vent  itself  in  a  passionate  outburst  and  pass 
away.  To  be  sure,  she  wept  a  little,  but  the 
thoughts  which  haunted  her  were  not  of  a  kind  to 
be  forgotten,  and  afterwards  she  was  as  wretched 
as  ever.  What  she  had  done  seemed  to  her  so 
dreadful  that  even  tears  were  not  right,  and  she 
felt  that  she  ought  only  to  sit  still  and  think  of  it, 
and  be  frightened;  it  seemed  to  her  just  then  as  if 
she  would  have  to  do  the  same  thing  for  the  rest 
of  her  days.  She  spent  several  hours  in  her  room 
without  once  moving,  and  without  being  disturbed, 
for  her  aunt  was  sufficiently  annoyed  at  her  morn 
ing's  reception  not  to  visit  her  again.  The  lunch 
hour  passed,  therefore,  unthought  of  by  Helen,  and 
it  was  an  hour  or  two  later  before  she  heard  her 
aunt's  step  in  the  hall,  and  her  knock  upon  the 
door. 

Mrs.  Roberts  entered  and  stood  in  the  center  of 
the  room,  gazing  at  Helen,  and  at  the  look  of  help 
less  despair  which  she  turned  towards  her;  the 
woman's  own  lips  were  set  very  tightly. 

"Well?"  she  said  abruptly,  "have  you  had  your 
wish,  and  are  you  happy?" 

235 


KING  MIDAS 

Helen  did  not  answer,  nor  did  she  half  realize 
the  question,  so  lost  was  she  in  her  own  misery. 
Hhe  sat  gazing  at  her  aunt,  while  the  latter  went 
on:  "You  have  had  jour  way  in  one  thing,  at  any 
rate,  Helen;  Mr.  Harrison  is  downstairs  to  see  you." 

The  girl  gave  a  slight  start,  but  then  she  an 
swered  quietly:  "Thank  you,  Auntie;  I  shall  go 
down  and  see  him." 

"Helen,"  said  Mrs.  Roberts,  "do  you  still  refuse 
to  tell  me  anything  of  what  I  ask  you?" 

Helen  was  quite  too  much  humbled  to  wish  to 
oppose  anyone  just  then;  and  she  answered  mourn 
fully,  "What  is  it  that  you  wish?" 

"I  wish  to  know  in  the  first  place  why  you  wanted 
to  see  Mr.  Harrison." 

"I  wanted  to  see  him  to  tell  him  that  I  could  not 
marry  him,  Aunt  Polly." 

And  Mrs.  Roberts  sat  down  opposite  Helen  and 
fixed  her  gaze  upon  her.  "I  knew  that  was  it,"  she 
said  grimly.  "Now,  Helen,  what  in  the  world  has 
come  over  you  to  make  you  behave  in  this  fashion?" 

"Oh,  it  is  so  much  to  tell  you,"  began  the  girl; 
"I  don't  know " 

"What  did  you  find  at  Hilltown?"  went  on  her 
aunt  persistently.  "Did  you  see  Arthur?" 

"No,  Aunt  Polly,  that  is  what  is  the  matter;  he 
has  gone." 

"Gone!    Gone  where?" 

"Away,  Aunt  Polly!  Nobody  saw  him  go,  and 
he  left  a  note  saying  that  he  would  never  return. 
And  I  am  so  frightened " 

Mrs.  Roberts  was  gazing  at  her  niece  with  a 
236 


KING  MIDAS 

puzzled  look  upon  her  face.  She  interrupted  her 
by  echoing  the  word  "frightened"  inquiringly. 

"Yes,  Auntie  I"  cried  the  girl;  "for  I  may  never 
be  able  to  find  him  again,  to  undo  what  I  have 
done!" 

And  Mrs.  Roberts  responded  with  a  wondering 
laugh,  and  observed,  "For  my  part,  I  should  think 
you'd  be  very  glad  to  be  rid  of  him  so." 

She  saw  Helen  give  a  start,  but  she  could  not 
read  the  girl's  mind,  and  did  not  know  how  much 
she  had  done  to  estrange  her  by  those  words.  It 
was  as  if  Helen's  whole  soul  had  shrunk  back  in 
horror,  and  she  sat  staring  at  her  aunt  with  open 
eyes. 

"I  suppose  you  think,"  the  other  went  on  grimly, 
"that  I  am  going  to  share  all  this  wonderful  senti 
mentality  with  you  about  that  boy;  but  I  assure 
you  that  you  don't  know  me!  He  may  get  you  to 
weep  over  him  because  he  chooses  to  behave  like  a 
fool,  but  not  me." 

Helen  was  still  for  a  moment,  and  then  she  said, 
in  an  awe-stricken  voice:  "Aunt  Polly,  I  have 
wrecked  Arthur's  life!"  Mrs.  Roberts  responded 
with  a  loud  guffaw,  which  was  to  the  other  so 
offensive  that  it  was  like  a  blow  in  the  face. 

'Wrecked  his  life!"  the  woman  cried  scornfully. 
"Helen,  you  talk  like  a  baby!  Can't  you  know  in 
the  first  place  that  Arthur  is  doing  all  this  high- 
tragedy  acting  for  nothing  in  the  world  but  to 
frighten  you?  Wrecked  his  life!  And  there  you 
were,  I  suppose,  all  ready  to  get  down  on  your  knees 
to  him,  and  beg  his  pardon  for  daring  to  be  engaged, 
and  to  promise  to  come  to  his  attic  and  live  off 

237 


KING  MIDAS 

bread  and  water,  if  he  would  only  be  good  and  not 
run  away!" 

Mrs.  Roberts'  voice  was  bitter  and  mocking,  and 
her  words  seemed  to  Helen  almost  blasphemy;  it 
had  never  occurred  to  her  that  such  grief  as  hers 
would  not  be  sacred  to  anyone.  Yet  there  was  no 
thought  of  anger  in  her  mind  just  then,  for  she 
had  been  chastened  in  a  fiery  furnace,  and  was  too 
full  of  penitence  and  humility  for  even  that  much 
egotism.  She  only  bowed  her  head,  and  said,  in 
a  trembling  voice:  "Oh,  Aunt  Polly,  I  would  stay 
in  an  attic  and  live  off  bread  and  water  for  the  rest 
of  my  days,  if  I  could  only  clear  my  conscience  of 
the  dreadful  thing  I  have  done/' 

"A  beautiful  sentiment  indeed!"  said  Mrs.  Kob- 
erts,  with  a  sniff  of  disgust;  and  she  stood  survey 
ing  her  niece  in  silence  for  a  minute  or  two.  Then 
smothering  her  feelings  a  little,  she  asked  her  in  a 
quieter  voice,  "And  so,  Helen,  you  are  really  going 
to  fling  aside  the  life  opportunity  that  is  yours  for 
such  nonsense  as  this?  There  is  no  other  reason?" 

"There  is  another  reason,  Aunt  Polly,"  said 
Helen;  "it  is  so  dreadful  of  you  to  ask  me  in  that 
way.  How  can  you  have  expected  me  to  marry  a 
man  just  because  he  was  rich?" 

"Oh,"  said  the  other,  "so  that  is  it!  And  pray 
what  put  the  idea  into  your  head  so  suddenly?" 
She  paused  a  moment,  and  then,  as  the  girl  did  not 
raise  her  head,  she  went  on,  sarcastically,  "I  fancy 
I  know  pretty  well  where  you  got  all  of  these  won 
derful  new  ideas;  you  have  not  been  talking  with 
Mr.  Howard  for  nothing,  I  see." 

"No,  not  for  nothing,"  said  Helen  gently. 
238 


KING  MIDAS 

"A  nice  state  of  affairs!"  continued  the  other 
angrily;  "I  knew  pretty  well  that  his  head  was  full 
of  nonsense,  but  when  I  asked  him  here  I  thought  at 
least  that  he  would  know  enough  about  good  man 
ners  to  mind  his  own  affairs.  So  he  has  been  talk 
ing  to  you,  has  he?  And  now  you  cannot  possibly 
marry  a  rich  man!" 

Mrs.  Roberts  stopped,  quite  too  angry  to  find  any 
more  words;  but  as  she  sat  for  a  minute  or  two, 
gazing  at  Helen,  it  must  have  occurred  to  her  that 
she  wrould  not  accomplish  anything  in  that  way. 
She  made  an  effort  to  swallow  her  emotions. 

"Helen,  dear,"  she  said,  sitting  down  near  her 
niece,  "why  will  you  worry  me  in  this  dreadful 
way,  axid  make  me  speak  so  crossly  to  you?  I  can 
not  teU  you,  Helen,  what  a  torment  it  is  to  me  to 
see  you  throwing  yourself  away  in  this  fashion;  I 
implore  you  to  stop  and  think  before  you  take  this 
step,  for  as  sure  as  you  are  alive  you  will  regret 
it  all  your  days.  Just  think  of  it  how  you  will 
feel,  and  bow  I  will  feel,  when  you  look  back  at  the 
happiness  you  might  have  had,  and  know  that  it  is 
too  late!  And,  Helen,  it  is  due  to  nothing  in  the 
world  but  to  your  inexperience  that  you  have  let 
yourself  be  carried  away  by  these  sublimities.  You 
must  know,  child,  and  you  can  see  if  you  choose, 
that  they  have  nothing  to  do  with  life;  they  will 
not  butter  your  bread,  Helen,  or  pay  your  coach 
man,  and  when  you  get  over  all  this  excitement, 
you  will  find  that  what  I  tell  you  is  true.  Look  about 
you  in  the  world,  and  where  can  you  find  anybody 
who  lives  according  to  such  ideas?" 


KING  MIDAS 

"What  ideas  do  you  mean,  Aunt  Polly?"  asked 
Helen,  with  a  puzzled  look. 

"Oh,  don't  you  suppose,"  answered  the  other, 
"that  I  know  perfectly  well  what  kind  of  stuff  it  is 
that  Mr.  Howard  has  talked  to  you?  I  used  to  hear 
all  that  kind  of  thing  when  I  was  young,  and  I  be 
lieved  some  of  it,  too, — about  how  beautiful  it  was 
to  marry  for  love,  and  to  have  a  fine  scorn  of  wealth 
and  all  the  rest  of  it;  but  it  wasn't  very  long  be 
fore  I  found  out  that  such  opinions  were  of  no  use 
in  the  world." 

"Then  you  don't  believe  in  love,  Aunt  Polly?" 
asked  Helen,  fixing  her  eyes  on  the  other. 

"What's  the  use  of  asking  such  an  absurd  ques 
tion?"  was  the  answer.  "Of  course  I  believe  in 
love;  I  wanted  you  to  love  Mr.  Harrison,  and  you 
might  have,  if  you  had  chosen.  I  learned  to  love 
Mr.  Roberts;  naturally,  a  couple  have  to  love  each 
other,  or  how  would  they  ever  live  happily  together? 
But  what  has  that  to  do  with  this  ridiculous  talk  of 
Mr.  Howard's?  As  if  two  people  had  nothing  else 
to  do  in  the  world  but  to  love  each  other!  It's  all 
very  well,  Helen,  for  a  man  who  chooses  to  live  like 
Robinson  Crusoe  to  talk  such  nonsense,  but  he 
ought  not  to  put  it  in  the  mind  of  a  sentimental 
girl.  He  would  very  soon  find,  if  he  came  out  into 
life,  that  the  world  isn't  run  by  love,  and  that 
people  need  a  good  many  other  things  to  keep  them 
happy  in  it.  You  ought  to  have  sense  enough  to 
see  that  you've  got  to  live  a  different  sort  of  a  life, 
and  that  Mr.  Howard  knows  nothing  in  the  world 
about  your  needs.  I  don't  go  alone  and  live  in  vis 
ions,  and  make  myself  imaginary  lives,  Helen;  I 

240 


KING  MIDAS 

look  at  the  world  as  it  is.  You  will  have  to  learn 
some  day  that  the  real  way  to  find  happiness  is  to 
take  things  as  you  find  them,  and  get  the  best  out 
of  life  you  can.  I  never  had  one-tenth  of  your  ad 
vantages,  and  yet  there  aren't  many  people  in  the 
world  better  off  than  I  am;  and  you  could  be  just 
as  happy,  if  you  would  only  take  my  advice  about 
it.  What  I  am  talking  to  you  is  common  sense, 
Helen,  and  anybody  that  you  choose  to  ask  will  tell 
you  the  same  thing." 

So  Mrs.  Roberts  went  on,  quite  fairly  under  way 
in  her  usual  course  of  argument,  and  rousing  all 
her  faculties  for  this  last  struggle.  She  was  as 
convinced  as  ever  of  the  completeness  of  her  own 
views,  and  of  the  effect  which  they  must  have  upon 
Helen;  perhaps  it  was  not  her  fault  that  she  did 
not  know  to  what  another  person  she  was  talking. 

In  truth,  it  would  not  be  easy  to  tell  how  great 
a  difference  there  was  in  the  effect  of  those  old 
arguments  upon  Helen;  while  she  had  been  sitting 
in  her  room  alone  and  suffering  so  very  keenly,  the 
girl  had  been,  though  she  did  not  know  it,  very  near 
indeed  to  the  sacred  truths  of  life,  and  now  as  she 
listened  to  her  aunt,  she  was  simply  holding  her 
breath.  The  climax  came  suddenly,  for  as  the  other 
stopped,  Helen  leaned  forward  in  her  chair,  and 
gazing  deep  into  her  eyes  asked  her,  ''Aunt  I'oliy. 
can  it  really  be  that  you  do  not  know  that  \vh.i i 
you  have  been  saying  to  me  is  dreadfully  wi<'k<- 1  f 

There  was  perhaps  nothing  that  the  girl  could 
have  done  to  take  her  complacent  relative  more  by 
surprise;  Mrs.  Roberts  sat  for  a  moment,  echoing 
the  last  word,  and  staring  as  if  not  quite  able  to 

16  241 


KING  MIDAS 

realize  what  Helen  meant.  As  the  truth  came  to 
her  she  turned  quite  pale. 

"It  seems  to  me,"  she  said  with  a  sneer,  "that  I 
remember  a  time  when  it  didn't  seem  quite  so 
wicked  to  you.  If  I  am  not  mistaken  you  were 
quite  glad  to  do  all  that  I  told  you,  and  to  get  as 
much  as  ever  you  could." 

Helen  was  quite  used  to  that  taunt  in  her  own 
heart,  and  to  the  pain  that  it  brought  her,  so  she 
only  lowered  her  eyes  and  said  nothing.  In  the 
meantime  Mrs.  Roberts  was  going  on  in  her  sar 
castic  tone: 

"Wicked  indeed!"  she  ejaculated,  "and  I  suppose 
all  that  I  have  been  doing  for  you  was  wicked  too! 
I  suppose  it  was  wicked  of  me  to  watch  over  your 
education  all  these  years  as  I  have,  and  to  plan 
your  future  as  if  you  were  my  own  child,  so  that 
you  might  amount  to  something  in  the  world;  and 
it  was  wicked  of  me  to  take  all  the  trouble  that  I 
have  for  your  happiness,  and  wicked  of  Mr.  Roberts 
to  go  to  all  the  trouble  about  the  trousseau  that 
he  has!  The  only  right  and  virtuous  thing  about 
it  all  is  the  conduct  of  our  niece  who  causes  us  to 
do  it  all,  and  who  promises  herself  to  a  man  and 
lets  him  go  to  all  the  trouble  that  he  has,  and  then 
gets  her  head  full  of  sanctimonious  notions  and 
begins  to  preach  about  wickedness  to  her  elders!" 

Helen  had  nothing  to  reply  to  those  bitter  words, 
for  it  was  only  too  easy  just  then  to  make  her  ac 
cuse  herself  of  anything.  She  sat  meekly  suffer 
ing,  and  thinking  that  the  other  was  quite  justified 
in  all  her  anger.  Mrs.  Roberts  was,  of  course,  quite 
incapable  of  appreciating  her  mood,  and  continued 

242 


KING  MIDAS 

to  pour  out  her  sarcasm,  and  to  grow  more  and  more 
bitter.  To  tell  the  truth,  the  worthy  matron  had 
not  been  half  so  unselfish  in  her  hopes  about  Helen 
as  she  liked  to  pretend,  and  she  showed  then  that 
like  most  people  of  the  world  who  are  perfectly 
good-natured  on  the  surface,  she  could  display  no 
little  ugliness  when  thwarted  in  her  ambitions  and 
offended  in  her  pride. 

It  was  not  possible,  however,  for  her  to  find  a 
word  that  could  seem  to  Helen  unjust,  so  much  was 
the  girl  already  humbled.  It  was  only  after  her 
aunt  had  ceased  to  direct  her  taunts  at  her,  and 
turned  her  spite  upon  Mr.  Howard  and  his  superior 
ideas,  that  it  seemed  to  Helen  that  it  was  not  help 
ing  her  to  hear  any  more;  then  she  rose  and  said, 
very  gently,  "Aunt  Polly,  I  am  sorry  that  you  feel 
so  about  me,  and  I  wish  that  I  could  explain  to  you 
better  what  I  am  doing.  I  know  that  what  I  did 
at  first  was  all  wrong,  but  that  is  no  reason  why 
I  should  leave  it  wrong  forever.  I  think  now  that 
I  ought  to  go  and  talk  to  Mr.  Harrison,  who  is 
waiting  for  me,  and  after  that  I  want  you  to  please 
send  me  home,  because  father  will  be  there  to-day, 
and  I  want  to  tell  him  about  how  dreadfully  I  have 
treated  Arthur,  and  beg  him  to  forgive  me." 

Then,  without  waiting  for  any  reply,  the  girl  left 
the  room  and  went  slowly  down  the  steps.  The  sor 
row  that  possessed  her  lay  so  deep  upon  her  heart 
that  everything  else  seemed  trivial  in  comparison, 
and  she  had  put  aside  and  forgotten  the  whole 
scene  with  her  aunt  before  she  had  reached  the 
parlor  where  Mr.  Harrison  was  waiting;  she  did  not 

243 


KING  MIDAS 

stop  to  compose  herself  or  to  think  what  to  say, 
but  went  quickly  into  the  room. 

Mr.  Harrison,  who  was  standing  by  the  window, 
turned  when  he  heard  her;  she  answered  his  greet 
ing  kindly,  and  then  sat  down  and  remained  very 
still  for  a  moment  or  two,  gazing  at  her  hands  in 
her  lap.  At  last  she  raised  her  eyes  to  him,  and 
asked:  "Mr.  Harrison,  did  you  receive  the  letter 
I  wrote  you?" 

"Yes,"  the  other  answered  quickly,  "I  did.  I 
cannot  tell  you  how  much  pain  it  caused  me.  And, 
Helen — or  must  I  call  you  Miss  Davis?" 

"You  may  call  me  Helen,"  said  the  girl  simply. 
"I  was  very  sorry  to  cause  you  pain,"  she  added, 
"but  there  was  nothing  else  that  I  could  do." 

"At  least,"  the  other  responded,  "I  hope  that 
you  will  not  refuse  to  explain  to  me  why  this  step 
is  necessary?" 

"No,  Mr.  Harrison,"  said  Helen,  "it  is  right  that 
I  should  tell  you  all,  no  matter  how  hard  it  is  to  me 
to  do  it.  It  is  all  because  of  a  great  wrong  that  I 
have  done;  I  know  that  when  I  have  told  you,  you 
will  think  very  badly  of  me  indeed,  but  I  have  no 
right  to  do  anything  except  to  speak  the  truth." 

She  said  that  in  a  very  low  voice,  not  allowing  her 
eyes  to  drop,  and  wearing  upon  her  face  the  look  of 
sadness  which  seemed  now  to  belong  to  it  always. 
Mr.  Harrison  gazed  at  her  anxiously,  and  said: 
"You  seem  to  have  been  ill,  Helen." 

"I  have  been  very  unhappy,  Mr.  Harrison,"  she 
answered,  "and  I  do  not  believe  I  can  ever  be  other 
wise  again.  Did  you  not  notice  that  I  was  un 
happy?" 

244 


KING  MIDAS 

"I  never  thought  of  it  until  yesterday,"  the  other 
replied. 

"Until  the  drive,'*  said  Helen;  "that  was  the 
climax  of  it.  I  must  tell  you  the  reason  why  I  was 
so  frightened  then, — that  I  have  a  friend  who  was 
as  dear  to  me  as  if  he  were  my  brother,  and  he  loved 
me  very  much,  very  much  more  than  I  deserve  to  be 
loved  by  anyone;  and  when  I  was  engaged  to  you  he 
was  very  ill,  and  because  I  knew  I  was  doing  so 
wrong  I  did  not  dare  to  go  and  see  him.  That  was 
why  I  was  afraid  to  pass  through  Hilltown.  The 
reason  I  was  so  frightened  afterwards  is  that  I 
caught  a  glimpse  of  him,  and  he  was  in  such  a 
dreadful  way.  This  morning  I  found  that  he  had 
left  his  home  and  gone  away,  no  one  knows  where, 
so  that  -  fear  J  shall  never  see  him  again." 

Helen  paused,  and  the  other,  who  had  sat  down 
and  was  leaning  forward  anxiously,  asked  her, 
"Then  it  is  this  friend  that  you  love?" 

"No,"  the  girl  replied,  "it  is  not  that;  I  do  not 
love  anybody." 

"But  then  I  do  not  understand,"  went  on  Mr.  Har 
rison,  with  a  puzzled  look.  "You  spoke  of  its  hav 
ing  been  so  wrong;  was  it  not  your  right  to  wish  to 
marry  me?" 

And  Helen,  punishing  herself  as  she  had  learned 
so  bravely  to  do,  did  not  lower  her  eyes  even  then; 
she  flushed  somewhat,  however,  as  she  answered: 
"Mr.  Harrison,  do  you  know  why  I  wished  to  marry 
you?" 

The  other  started  a  trifle,  and  looked  very  much 
at  a  loss  indeed.  "Why?"  he  echoed.  "No,  I  do  not 
know — that  is — I  never  thought " 

245 


KING  MIDAS 

"It  hurts  me  more  than  I  can  tell  you  to  have  to 
say  this  to  you,"  Helen  said,  "for  you  were  right 
and  true  in  your  feeling.  But  did  you  think  that  I 
was  that,  Mr.  Harrison?  Did  you  think  that  I 
really  loved  you?" 

Probably  the  good  man  had  never  been  more  em 
barrassed  in  his  life  than  he  was  just  then.  The 
truth  to  be  told,  he  was  perfectly  well  aware  why 
Helen  had  wished  to  marry  him,  and  had  been  all 
along,  without  seeing  anything  in  that  for  which 
to  dislike  her;  he  was  quite  without  an  answer  to 
her  present  question,  and  could  only  cough  and 
stammer,  and  reach  for  his  handkerchief.  The  girl 
went  on  quickly,  without  waiting  very  long  for  his 
reply. 

"I  owe  it  to  you  to  tell  you  the  truth,"  she  said, 
"and  then  it  will  no  longer  cause  you  pain  to  give 
me  up.  For  I  did  not  love  you  at  all,  Mr.  Harrison; 
but  I  loved  all  that  you  offered  me,  and  I  allowed 
myself  to  be  tempted  thus,  to  promise  to  marry 
you.  Ever  afterwards  I  was  quite  wretched,  be 
cause  I  knew  that  I  was  doing  something  wicked, 
and  yet  I  never  had  the  courage  to  stop.  So  it  went 
on  until  my  punishment  came  yesterday.  .1  have 
suffered  fearfully  since  that." 

Helen  had  said  all  that  there  was  to  be  said,  and 
she  stopped  and  took  a  deep  breath  of  relief.  There 
was  a  minute  or  two  of  silence,  after  which  Mr. 
Harrison  asked:  "And  you  really  think  that  it 
was  so  wrong  to  promise  to  marry  me  for  the  happi 
ness  that  I  could  offer  you?" 

Helen  gazed  at  him  in  surprise  as  she  echoed, 
"Was  it  so  wrong?"  And  at.  the  r.ame  moment 

246 


KING  MIDAS 

even  while  she  was  speaking,  a  memory  flashed 
across  her  mind,  the  memory  of  what  had  occurred 
at  Fairview  the  last  time  she  had  been  there  with 
Mr.  Harrison.  A  deep,  burning  blush  mantled  her 
face,  and  her  eyes  dropped,  and  ^he  trembled  visibly. 
It  was  a  better  response  to  the  other's  question 
than  any  words  could  have  been,  and  because  in 
spite  of  his  contact  with  the  world  he  was  still  in 
his  heart  a  gentleman,  he  understood  and  changed 
color  himself  and  looked  away,  feeling  perhaps 
more  rebuked  and  humbled  than  he  had  ever  felt  in 
his  life  before. 

So  they  sat  thus  for  several  minutes  without 
speaking  a  word,  or  looking  at  each  other,  each 
doing  penance  in  his  own  heart.  At  last,  in  a  very 
low  voice,  the  man  said,  "Helen,  I  do  not  know  just 
how  I  can  ever  apologize  to  you." 

The  girl  answered  quietly:  "I  could  not  let  you 
apologize  to  me,  Mr.  Harrison,  for  I  never  once 
thought  that  you  had  done  anything  wrong." 

"I  have  done  very  wrong  indeed,"  he  answered, 
his  voice  trembling,  ufor  I  do  not  think  that  I  had 
any  right  even  to  ask  you  to  marry  me.  You  make 
me  feel  suddenly  how  very  coarse  a  world  I  have 
lived  in,  and  how  much  lower  than  yours  all  my 
ways  of  thinking  are.  You  look  surprised  that  I 
say  that,"  he  added,  as  he  saw  that  the  girl  was 
about  to  interrupt  him,  ubut  you  do  not  know  much 
about  the  world.  Do  you  suppose  that  there  are 
many  women  in  society  who  would  hesitate  to 
marry  me  for  my  money?" 

"I  do  not  know,"  said  Helen,  slowly;  ubut,  Mr. 
247 


KING  MIDAS 

Harrison,  you  could  certainly  never  be  happy  with 
a  woman  who  would  do  that." 

"I  do  not  think  now  that  I  should,"  the  man  re 
plied,  earnestly,  "but  I  did  not  feel  that  way  before. 
I  did  not  have  much  else  to  offer,  Helen,  for  money 
is  all  that  a  man  like  me  ever  tries  to  get  in  the 
world." 

"It  is  so  very  wrong,  Mr.  Harrison,"  put  in  the 
other,  quickly.  "When  people  live  in  that  way  they 
come  to  lose  sight  of  all  that  is  right  and  beautiful 
in  life;  and  it  is  all  so  selfish  and  wicked!"  (Those 
were  words  which  might  have  made  Mr.  Howard 
smile  a  trifle  had  he  been  there  to  hear  them;  but 
Helen  was  too  much  in  earnest  to  think  about  being 
original.) 

"I  know,"  said  Mr.  Harrison,  "and  I  used  to  be 
lieve  in  such  things;  but  one  never  meets  anyone 
else  that  does,  and  it  is  so  easy  to  live  differently. 
When  you  spoke  to  me  as  you  did  just  now,  you 
made  me  seem  a  very  poor  kind  of  a  person  indeed." 

The  man  paused,  and  Helen  sat  gazing  at  him 
with  a  worried  look  upon  her  face.  "It  was  not 
that  which  I  meant  to  do,"  she  began,  but  then  she 
stopped;  and  after  a  long  silence,  Mr.  Harrison 
took  up  the  conversation  again,  speaking  in  a  low, 
earnest  voice. 

"Helen,"  he  said,  "you  have  made  me  see  that  I 
am  quite  unworthy  to  ask  for  your  regard, — that  I 
have  really  nothing  fit  to  offer  you.  But  I  might 
have  one  thing  that  you  could  appreciate, — for  I 
could  worship,  really  worship,  such  a  woman  as 
you;  and  I  could  do  everything  that  I  could  think 
of  to  make  myself  worthy  of  you, — even  if  it  meant 

248 


KING  MIDAS 

the  changing  of  all  my  ways  of  life.  Do  you  not 
suppose  that  you  could  quite  forget  that  I  was  a  rich 
man,  Helen,  and  still  let  me  be  devoted  to  you?" 

There  was  a  look  in  Mr.  Harrison's  eyes  as  he 
gazed  at  her  just  then  which  made  him  seem  to  her 
a  different  sort  of  a  man, — as  indeed  he  was.  She 
answered  very  gently.  "Mr.  Harrison,"  she  said, 
"it  would  be  a  great  happiness  to  me  to  know  that 
anyone  felt  so  about  me.  But  I  could  never  marry 
you;  I  do  not  love  you." 

"And  you  do  not  think,"  asked  the  other,  "that 
yo'j  could  ever  come  to  love  me,  no  matter  how  long 
I  might  wait?" 

"I  do  not  think  so,"  Helen  said  in  a  low  voice. 
"I  wish  that  you  would  not  ever  think  of  me  so." 

"It  is  very  easy  to  say  that,"  the  man  answered, 
pleadingly,  "but  how  am  I  to  do  it?  For  every 
thing  that  I  have  seems  cheap  compared  with  the 
thought  of  you.  Why  should  I  go  on  with  the  life 
I  have  been  leading,  heaping  up  wealth  that  J  do 
not  know  how  to  use,  and  that  makes  me  no  better 
and  no  happier?  I  thought  of  you  as  a  new  motive 
for  going  on,  Helen,  and  you  must  know  that  a  man 
cannot  so  easily  change  his  feelings.  For  I  really 
loved  you,  and  I  do  love  you  still,  and  I  think  that  I 
always  must  love  you." 

Helen's  own  suffering  had  made  her  alive  to  other 
people's  feelings,  and  the  tone  of  voice  in  which  he 
spoke  those  words  moved  her  very  much.  She 
leaned  over  and  laid  her  hand  upon  his, — some 
thing  which  she  would  not  have  thought  she  could 
ever  do. 

"Mr.  Harrison,"  she  said,  "I  cannot  tell  you  how 

249 


KING  MIDAS 

much  it  hurts  me  to  have  you  speak  to  me  so,  for  it 
makes  me  see  more  than  ever  how  cruelly  unfeeling 
I  have  been,  and  how  much  I  have  wronged  you. 
It  was  for  that  I  wished  to  beg  you  to  forgive  me, 
to  forgive  me  just  out  of  the  goodness  of  your  heart, 
for  .1  cannot  offer  any  excuse  for  what  I  did.  It 
makes  me  quite  wretched  to  have  to  say  that,  and 
to  know  that  others  are  suffering  because  of  my 
selfishness;  if  I  had  any  thought  of  the  sacredness 
of  the  beauty  God  has  given  me,  I  would  never 
have  let  you  think  of  me  as  you  did,  and  caused  you 
the  pain  that  I  have.  But  you  must  forgive  me,  Mr. 
Harrison,  and  help  me,  for  to  think  of  your  being 
unhappy  about  me  also  would  be  really  more  than 
I  could  bear.  Sometimes  when  I  think  of  the  one 
great  sorrow  that  I  have  already  upon  my  con 
science,  I  feel  that  I  do  not  know  what  1  am  to  do; 
and  you  must  go  away  and  forget  about  me,  for  my 
sake  if  not  for  your  own.  I  really  cannot  love  any 
one;  I  do  not  think  that  I  am  fit  to  love  anyone; 
I  only  do  not  want  to  make  anyone  else  unhappy." 

And  Helen  stopped  again,  and  pressed  her  hand 
upon  Mr.  Harrison's  imploringly.  He  sat  gazing  at 
her  in  silence  for  a  minute,  and  then  he  said, 
slowly:  "When  you  put  it  so,  it  is  very  hard  for 
me  to  say  anything  more.  If  you  are  only  sure  that 
that  is  your  final  word — that  there  is  really  no 
chance  that  you  could  ever  love  me, " 

"I  am  perfectly  sure  of  it,"  the  girl  answered; 
"and  because  I  know  how  cruel  it  sounds,  it  is 
harder  for  me  to  say  than  for  you  to  hear.  But  it 
is  really  the  truth,  Mr.  Harrison.  I  do  not  think 

250 


KING  MIDAS 

that  you  ought  to  see  me  again  until  you  are  sure 
that  it  will  not  make  you  unhappy." 

The  man  sat  for  a  moment  after  that,  with  his 
head  bowed,  and  then  he  bit  his  lip  very  hard  and 
rose  from  his  chair.  "You  can  never  know,"  he 
said,  "how  lonely  it  makes  a  man  feel  to  hear  words 
like  those."  But  he  took  Helen's  hand  in  his  and 
held  it  for  an  instant,  and  then  added:  kkl  shall  do 
as  you  ask  me.  Good-by."  And  he  let  her  hand 
fall  and  went  to  the  door.  There  he  stopped  to 
gaze  once  again  for  a  moment,  and  then  turned 
and  disappeared,  closing  the  door  behind  him. 

Helen  was  left  seated  in  the  chair,  where  she  re 
mained  for  several  minutes,  leaning  forward  with 
her  head  in  her  hands,  and  gazing  steadily  in  fi-ont 
of  her,  thinking  very  grave  thoughts.  She  rose  at 
last,  however,  and  brushed  back  the  hair  from  her 
forehead,  and  went  slowly  towards  the  door.  It 
would  have  seemed  lack  of  feeling  to  her,  had. she 
thought  of  it,  but  even  before  she  had  reached  the 
stairs  the  scene  through  which  she  had  just  passed 
was  gone  from  her  mind  entirely,  and  she  was  say 
ing  to  herself,  ''If  I  could  only  know  where  Arthur 
is  this  afternoon!" 

Her  mind  was  still  full  of  that  thought  when  she 
entered  the  room,  where  she  found  her  aunt  seated 
just  as  she  had  left  her,  and  in  no  more  pleasant 
humor  than  before. 

"You  have  told  him,  I  suppose?"  she  inquired. 

"Yes,"  Helen  said,  "I  have  told  him,  Aunt  Tolly." 

"And  now  you  are  happy,  I  suppose!" 

"No,  indeed,  I  am  very  far  from  that,"  said  Helen, 
and  she  went  to  the  window;  she  stood  there,  ga/- 

251 


KING  MIDAS 

ing  out,  but  with  her  thoughts  equally  far  awaj 
from  the  scene  outside  as  from  Mrs.  Roberts'  warn 
ings  and  sarcasms.  The  latter  had  gone  on  for 
several  minutes  before  her  niece  turned  suddenly. 
"Excuse  me  for  interrupting  you,  Aunt  Polly,"  she 
said;  "but  I  want  to  know  whether  Mr  Howard  has 
gone  yet." 

"His  train  goes  in  an  hour  or  so,"  said  Mrs.  Kob- 
erts,  not  very  graciously. 

"I  think  I  will  see  if  he  is  downstairs,"  Helen  re 
sponded;  "I  wish  to  speak  to  him  before  he  goes." 
And  so  she  descended  and  found  Mr.  Howard  seated 
alone  upon  the  piazza. 

Taking  a  seat  beside  him,  she  said,  "I  did  not 
thank  you  when  I  left  you  in  the  carriage,  Mr.  How 
ard,  for  having  been  so  kind  to  me;  but  I  was  so 
wrapped  up  in  my  worry " 

"I  understood  perfectly,"  put  in  the  other.  "1 
saw  that  you  felt  too  keenly  about  your  discovery 
to  have  anything  to  say  to  me." 

"I  feel  no  less  keenly  about  it  now,"  said  Helen; 
"but  I  could  not  let  you  go  away  until  I  had  spoken 
to  you."  She  gazed  very  earnestly  at  him  as  she 
continued:  "I  have  to  tell  you  how  much  you  have 
done  for  me,  and  how  I  thank  you  for  it  from  the 
bottom  of  my  heart.  I  simply  cannot  say  how  much 
all  that  you  have  shown  me  has  meant  to  me;  I 
should  have  cared  for  nothing  but  to  have  you  tell 
me  what  it  would  be  right  for  me  to  do  with  my 
life, — if  only  it  had  not  been  for  this  dreadful  mis 
fortune  of  Arthur's,  which  makes  it  seem  as  if  it 
would  be  wicked  for  me  to  think  about  anything." 

Mr.  Howard  sat  gazing  in  front  of  him  for  a 
252 


KING  MIDAS 

moment,  and  then  he  said  gently,  "What  if  the 
change  that  you  speak  of  were  to  be  accomplished, 
Miss  Davis,  without  your  ever  thinking  about  it? 
For  what  is  it  that  makes  the  difference  between 
being  thoughtless  and  selfish,  and  being  noble  and 
good,  if  it  be  not  simply  to  walk  reverently  in  God's 
great  temple  of  life,  and  to  think  with  sorrow  of 
one's  own  self?  Believe  me,  my  dear  friend,  the 
best  men  that  have  lived  on  earth  have  seen  no  more 
cause  to  be  pleased  with  themselves  than  you." 

"That  may  be  true,  Mr.  Howard,"  said  Helen, 
sadly,  "but  it  can  do  me  no  good  to  know  it.  It 
does  not  make  what  happens  to  Arthur  a  bit  less 
dreadful  to  think  of." 

"It  is  the  most  painful  fact  about  all  our  wrong," 
the  other  answered,  "that  no  amount  of  repentance 
can  ever  alter  the  consequences.  But,  Miss  Davis, 
that  is  a  guilt  which  all  creation  carries  on  its 
shoulders;  it  is  what  is  symbolized  in  the  Fall  of 
Man — that  he  has  to  realize  that  he  might  have  had 
infinite  beauty  and  joy  for  his  portion,  if  only  the 
soul  within  him  had  never  weakened  and  failed. 
Let  me  tell  you  that  he  is  a  lucky  man  who  can  look 
back  at  all  his  life  and  see  no  more  shameful  guilt 
than  yours,  and  no  consequence  worse  than  yours 
can  be."  As  Mr.  Howard  spoke  he  saw  a  startled 
look  cross  the  girl's  face,  and  he  added,  "Do  not 
suppose  that  I  am  saying  that  to  comfort  you,  for 
it  is  really  the  truth.  It  oftens  happens  too,  that 
the  natures  that  are  strongest  and  most  ardent  in 
their  search  for  righteousness  have  the  worst  sins 
to  remember." 

Helen  did  not 'answer  for  several  moments,  for 

253 


KING  MIDAS 

the  thought  was  strange  to  her;  then  suddenly  she 
gazed  at  the  other  very  earnestly  and  said:  "Mr. 
Howard,  you  are  a  man  who  lives  for  what  is  beauti 
ful  and  high, — suppose  that  you  had  to  carry  all 
through  your  life  the  burden  of  such  guilt  as 
mine?" 

The  man's  voice  was  trembling  slightly  as  he  an 
swered  her:  "It  is  not  hard  for  me  to  suppose  that, 
Miss  Davis;  I  have  such  a  burden  to  carry."  As  he 
raised  his  eyes  he  saw  a  still  more  wondering  look 
upon  her  countenance. 

"But  the  consequences!"  she  exclaimed.  "Surely, 
Mr.  Howard,  you  could  not  bear  to  live  if  you 
knew " 

"I  have  never  known  the  consequences,"  said  the 
man,  as  she  stopped  abruptly;  ajust  as  you  may 
never  know  them;  but  this  I  know,  that  yours  could 
not  be  so  dreadful  as  mine  must  be.  I  know  also 
that  I  am  far  more  to  blame  for  them  than  you." 

Helen  could  not  have  told  what  caused  the 
emotion  which  made  her  shudder  so  just  then  as 
she  gazed  into  Mr.  Howard's  dark  eyes.  Her  voice 
was  almost  a  whisper  as  she  said,  "And  yet  you  are 
good!" 

"I  am  good,"  said  the  man  gently,  "with  all  the 
goodness  that  any  man  can  claim,  the  goodness  of 
trying  to  be  better.  You  may  be  that  also." 

Helen  sat  for  a  long  time  in  silence  after  that, 
wondering  at  what  was  passing  in  her  own  mind; 
it  was  as  if  she  had  caught  a  sudden  glimpse  into  a 
great  vista  of  life.  She  had  always  before  thought 
of  this  man's  suffering  as  having  been  physical ;  and 
the  deep  movement  of  sympathy  and  awe  which 

254 


Kl.VC   MIDAS 

stirred  her  now  w;is  one  step  farther  from  her  own 
self-absorption,  and  one  step  nearer  to  the  suffering 
that  is  the  heart  of  things. 

But  Helen  had  to  keep  that  thought  and  dwell 
upon  it  in  solitude;  there  was  no  chance  for  her  to 
talk  with  Mr.  Howard  any  more,  for  she  heard  her 
aunt's  step  in  the  hall  behind  her.  She  had  only 
time  to  say,  "I  am  going  home  myself  this  after 
noon;  will  you  come  there  to  see  me,  Mr.  Howard? 
I  cannot  tell  you  how  much  pleasure  it  would  give 
me." 

"There  is  nothing  I  should  like  to  do  more,"  the 
man  answered;  UI  hope  to  keep  your  friendship. 
When  would  you  like  me  to  come?" 

"Any  time  that  you  can,"  replied  Helen.  "Come 
soon,  for  I  know  how  unhappy  I  shall  be." 

That  was  practically  the  last  word  she  said  to 
Mr.  Howard,  for  her  aunt  joined  them,  and  after 
that  the  conversation  was  formal.  It  was  not  very 
long  before  the  carriage  came  for  him,  and  Helen 
pressed  his  hand  gratefully  at  parting,  and  stood 
leaning  against  a  pillar  of  the  porch,  shading  her 
eyes  from  the  sun  while  she  watched  the  carriage 
depart.  Then  she  sat  down  to  wait  for  it  to  return 
from  the  depot  for  her,  which  it  did  before  long; 
and  so  she  bid  farewell  to  her  aunt. 

It  was  a  great  relief  to  Helen;  and  while  we  know 
not  what  emotions  it  may  cause  to  the  reader,  it  is 
perhaps  well  to  say  that  he  may  likewise  pay  his 
last  respects  to  the  worthy  matron,  who  will  not 
take  part  in  the  humble  events  of  which  the  rest  of 
our  story  must  be  composed. 

For  Helen  was  going  home,  home  to  the  poor 

25: 


KING  MIDAS 

little  parsonage  of  Oakdale!  She  was  going  with  a 
feeling  of  relief  in  her  heart  second  only  to  her  sor 
row;  the  more  she  had  come  to  feel  how  shallow 
and  false  was  the  splendor  that  had  allured  her,  the 
more  she  had  found  herself  drawn  to  her  old  home, 
with  its  memories  that  *vere  so  dear  and  so  beautiful. 
She  felt  that  there  she  might  at  least  think  of 
Arthur  all  that  she  chose,  and  meet  with  nothing  to 
affront  her  grief;  and  also  she  found  herself  think 
ing  of  her  father's  love  with  a  new  kind  of  hunger. 

When  she  arrived,  she  found  Mr.  Davis  waiting 
for  her  with  a  very  anxious  look  upon  his  counte 
nance;  he  had  stopped  at  Hilltown  on  his  way,  and 
learned  about  Arthur's  disappearance,  and  then 
heard  from  Elizabeth  what  she  knew  about  Helen's 
engagement.  The  girl  flung  herself  into  his  arms, 
and  afterwards,  quite  overcome  by  the  emotions 
that  surged  up  within  her,  sank  down  upon  her 
knees  before  him  and  sobbed  out  the  whole  story, 
her  heart  bursting  with  sorrow  and  contrition;  as 
he  lifted  her  up  and  kissed  her  and  whispered  his 
beautiful  words  of  pardon  and  comfort,  Helen 
found  it  a  real  homecoming  indeed. 

Mr.  Davis  was  also  able  to  calm  her  worry  a  little 
by  telling  her  that  he  did  not  think  it  possible  that 
Arthur  would  keep  his  whereabouts  secret  from 
him  very  long.  "When  I  find  him,  dear  child,"  he 
said,  "it  will  all  be  well  again,  for  we  will  believe 
in  love,  you  and  I,  and  not  care  what  the  great 
world  says  about  it.  I  think  I  could  be  well  content 
that  you  should  marry  our  dear  Arthur." 

"But,  father,  I  do  not  love  him,"  put  in  Helen 
faintly. 

256 


KING  MIDAS 

"That  may  come  in  time,"  said  the  other,  kissing 
her  tenderly,  and  smiling.  "There  is  no  need  to 
talk  of  it,  for  you  are  too  young  to  marry,  anyway. 
And  in  the  meantime  we  must  find  him." 

There  was  a  long  silence  after  that.  Helen  sat 
down  on  the  sofa  beside  her  father  and  put  her  arms 
about  him  and  leaned  her  head  upon  his  bosom, 
drinking  in  deep  drafts  of  his  pardon  and  love. 
She  told  him  about  Mr.  Howard,  and  of  the  words 
of  counsel  which  he  had  given  her,  and  how  he  was 
coming  to  see  her  again.  Afterwards  the  conversa 
tion  came  back  to  Arthur  and  his  love  for  Helen, 
and  then  Mr.  Davis  went  on  to  add  something  that 
caused  Helen  to  open  her  eyes  very  wide  and  gaze 
at  him  in  wonder. 

"There  is  still  another  reason  for  wishing  to  find 
him  soon,"  he  said,  "for  something  else  has  hap 
pened  to-day  that  he  ought  to  know  about." 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Helen. 

"I  don't  know  that  I  ought  to  tell  you  about  it 
just  now,"  said  the  other,  "for  it  is  a  very  sad 
story.  But  someone  was  here  to  see  Arthur  this 
morning — someone  whom  I  never  expected  to  see 
again  in  all  my  life." 

"To  see  Arthur?"  echoed  the  girl  in  perplexity. 
"Who  could  want  to  see  Arthur?"  As  her  father 
went  on  she  gave  a  great  start. 

"It  was  his  mother,"  said  Mr.  Davis. 

And  Helen  stared  at  him,  gasping  for  breath  as 
she  echoed  the  words,  "His  mother!" 

"You  may  well  be  astonished,"  said  the  clergy 
man.  "But  the  woman  proved  beyond  doubt  that 

*7  257 


KING  MIDAS 

she  was  really  the  person  who  left  Arthur  with 
me." 

"You  did  not  recognize  her?" 

"No,  Helen;  for  it  has  been  twenty-one  or  two 
years  since  I  saw  her,  and  she  has  changed  very 
much  since  then.  But  she  told  me  that  in  all  that 
time  she  has  never  once  lost  sight  of  her  boy,  and 
has  been  watching  all  that  he  did." 

"Where  has  she  been?" 

"She  did  not  tell  me,"  the  other  answered,  "but 
I  fancy  in  New  York.  The  poor  woman  has  lived  a 
very  dreadful  life,  a  life  of  such  wretched  wicked 
ness  that  we  cannot  even  talk  about  it;  I  think  I 
never  heard  of  more  cruel  suffering.  I  was  glad 
that  you  were  not  here  to  see  her,  or  know  about 
it  until  after  she  was  gone;  she  said  that  she  had 
come  to  see  Arthur  once,  because  she  was  going 
away  to  die." 

"To  die!"  exclaimed  the  girl,  in  horror. 

"Yes,"  said  Mr.  Davis,  "to  die;  she  looked  as  if 
she  could  not  live  many  days  longer.  I  begged  her 
to  let  me  see  that  she  was  provided  for,  but  she 
said  that  she  was  going  to  find  her  way  back  to  her 
old  home,  somewhere  far  off  in  the  country,  and  she 
would  hear  of  nothing  else.  She  would  not  tell 
the  name  of  the  place,  nor  her  own  name,  but  she 
left  a  letter  for  Arthur,  and  begged  me  to  find  him 
and  give  it  to  him,  so  that  he  might  come  and  speak 
to  her  once  if  he  cared  to  do  so.  She  begged  me 
to  forgive  her  for  the  trouble  she  had  caused  me, 
and  to  pray  that  God  would  forgive  her  too;  and 
then  she  bade  me  farewell  and  dragged  herself 
away." 

258 


KING  MIDAS 

Mr.  Davis  stopped,  and  Helen  sat  for  a  long  time 
staring  ahead  of  her,  with  a  very  frightened  look 
in  her  eyes,  and  thinking,  "Oh,  we  must  find  Ar 
thur!"  Then  she  turned  to  her  fat  her,  her  lips  trem 
bling  and  her  countenance  very  pale.  "Tell  me," 
she  said,  in  a  low,  awe-stricken  voice,  "a  long  time 
ago  someone  must  have  wronged  that  woman." 

"Yes,  dear,"  said  Mr.  Davis,  "when  she  was  not 
even  as  old  as  you  are.  And  the  man  who  wronged 
her  was  worth  millions  of  dollars,  Helen,  and  could 
have  saved  her  from  all  her  suffering  with  a  few  of 
them  if  he  cared  to.  No  one  but  God  knows  his 
name,  for  the  woman  would  not  tell  it." 

Helen  sat  for  a  moment  or  two  staring  at  him 
wildly;  and  then  suddenly  she  buried  her  head  in 
his  bosom  and  burst  into  tears,  sobbing  so  cruelly 
that  her  father  was  sorry  he  had  told  her  what  he 
had.  He  knew  why  that  story  moved  her  so,  and  it 
wrung  his  heart  to  think  of  it, — that  this  child  of 
his  had  put  upon  her  own  shoulders  some  of  that 
burden  of  the  guilt  of  things,  and  must  suffer  be 
neath  it,  perhaps  for  the  rest  of  her  days. 

When  Helen  gazed  up  at  him  again  there  was  the 
old  frightened  look  upon  her  face,  and  all  his  at 
tempts  to  comfort  her  were  useless.  "No,  no!"  she 
whispered.  "No,  father!  I  cannot  even  think  of 
peace  again,  until  we  have  found  Arthur!" 


lich-es      Vog   - 
259 


CHAPTER  XII. 

"A  fugitive  and  gracious  light  he  seeks, 

Shy  to  illumine;    and  I   seek  it  too. 
This  does  not  come  with  houses  or  with  gold, 

With  place,  with  honor,  and  a  nattering  crew; 
'Tis  not  in  the  world's  market  bought  and  sold." 

THREE  days  passed  by  after  Helen  had  returned 
to  her  father,  during  which  the  girl  stayed  by  her 
self  most  of  the  time.  When  the  breaking  off  of 
her  engagement  was  known,  many  of  her  old 
friends  came  to  see  her,  but  the  hints  that  they 
dropped  did  not  move  her  to  any  confidences;  she 
felt  that  it  would  not  be  possible  for  her  to  find 
among  them  any  understanding  of  her  present 
moods.  Her  old  life,  or  rather  the  life  to  which 
she  had  been  looking  forward,  seemed  to  her  quite 
empty  and  shallow,  and  there  was  nothing  useful 
that  she  knew  of  to  do  except  to  offer  to  help  her 
father  in  such  ways  as  she  could.  She  drew  back 
into  her  owrn  heart,  giving  most  of  her  time  to 
thinking  about  Mr.  Howard  and  Arthur,  and  no 
one  but  her  father  knew  why  it  was  that  she  was 
so  subdued  and  silent. 

It  was  only  on  the  third  morning,  when  there 
came  a  letter  from  Mr.  Howard  saying  that  he  was 
coming  out  that  afternoon  to  see  her,  that  Helen 
seemed  to  be  interested  and  stirred  again.  She 
went  to  the  window  more  than  once  to  look  for 

260 


KING  MIDAS 

him;  and  when  at  last  her  friend  had  arrived,  and 
the  two  were  seated  in  the  parlor,  she  said  to  him 
without  waiting  for  any  circumstance,  "I  have  been 
wishing  very  much  to  see  you,  Mr.  Howard,  be 
cause  there  is  something  I  am  anxious  to  talk  to 
you  about,  if  you  will  let  me." 

"I  am  sorry  to  say  that  it  is  about  myself,"  she 
went  on,  when  the  other  had  expressed  his  willing 
ness  to  hear  her,  "for  I  want  to  ask  you  to  help 
me,  and  to  give  me  some  advice.  I  ought  to  have 
asked  you  the  questions  I  am  going  to  before  this, 
but  the  last  time  I  saw  you  I  could  think  about 
nothing  but  Arthur.  They  only  came  to  me  after 
you  had  gone." 

"What  are  they?"  asked  the  man. 

"You  must  know,  Mr.  Howard,"  said  Helen,  "that 
it  is  you  who  have  shown  me  the  wrongness  of  all 
that  I  was  doing  in  my  life,  and  stirred  me  with  a 
desire  to  do  better.  I  find  now  that  such  thoughts 
have  always  been  so  far  from  me  that  the  wish  to 
be  right  is  all  that  I  have,  and  I  do  not  know  at  all 
what  to  do.  It  seemed  to  me  that  I  would  rather 
talk  to  you  about  it  than  to  anyone,  even  my  own 
father.  I  do  not  know  whether  that  is  just  right, 
but  you  do  not  mind  my  asking  you,  do  you?" 

"It  is  my  wish  to  help  you  in  every  way  that  I 
can,"  was  the  gentle  response. 

"I  will  tell  you  what  I  have  been  thinking,"  said 
Helen.  "I  have  been  so  unhappy  in  the  last  three 
days  that  I  have  done  nothing  at  all;  but  it  seemed 
to  me  somehow  that  it  must  be  wrong  of  me  to  let 
go  of  myself  in  that  way — as  if  I  had  no  right  to 
pamper  myself  and  indulge  my  own  feelings.  It 

261 


KING  MIDAS 

was  not  that  I  wished  to  forget  what  wrong  things 
I  have  done,  or  keep  from  suffering  because  of  them; 
yet  it  seemed  to  me  that  the  fact  that  I  was 
wretched  and  frightened  was  no  excuse  for  my 
doing  no  good  for  the  rest  of  my  life.  When  I  have 
thought  about  my  duty  before,  it  has  always  been 
my  school-girl's  task  of  studying  and  practicing 
music,  but  that  is  not  at  all  what  I  want  now,  for  I 
cannot  bear  to  think  of  such  things  while  the  mem 
ory  of  Arthur  is  in  my  mind.  I  need  something 
that  is  not  for  myself,  Mr.  Howard,  and  I  find  my 
self  thinking  that  it  should  be  something  that  I 
do  not  like  to  do." 

Helen  paused  for  a  moment,  gazing  at  the  other 
anxiously;  and  then  she  went  on:  "You  must  know 
that  what  is  really  behind  what  I  am  saying  is 
what  you  said  that  evening  in  the  arbor,  about  the 
kind  of  woman  I  ought  to  be  because  God  has  made 
me  beautiful.  My  heart  is  full  of  a  great  hunger 
to  be  set  right,  and  to  get  a  clearer  sight  of  the 
things  that  are  truly  good  in  life.  I  want  you  to 
talk  to  me  about  your  own  ideals,  and  what  you 
do  to  keep  your  life  deep  and  true;  and  then  to  tell 
me  what  you  would  do  in  my  place.  I  promise  you 
that  no  matter  how  hard  it  may  be  I  shall  feel  that 
just  what  you  tell  me  to  do  is  my  duty,  and  at  least 
I  shall  never  be  happy  again  until  I  have  done  it. 
Do  you  understand  how  I  feel,  Mr.  Howard?" 

"Yes,"  the  man  answered,  in  a  quiet  voice,  "I  un 
derstand  you  perfectly."  And  then  as  he  paused, 
watching  the  girl  from  beneath  his  dark  brows, 
Helen  asked,  "You  do  not  mind  talking  to  me  about 
yourself?" 

262 


KING  MIDAS 

% 
"When  a  man  lives  all  alone  and  as  self-centered 

as  I,"  the  other  replied,  smiling,  "it  is  fatally  easy 
for  him  to  do  that;  he  may  blend  himself  with  his 
ideals  in  such  a  curious  way  that  he  never  talks 
about  anything  else.  But  if  you  will  excuse  that, 
I  will  tell  you  what  I  can." 

"Tell  me  why  it  is  that  you  live  so  much  alone," 
said  the  girl.  "Is  it  that  you  do  not  care  for 
friends?" 

"It  is  very  difficult  for  a  man  who  feels  about  life 
as  I  do  to  fiud  many  friends,"  he  responded.  "If 
one  strives  to  dwell  in  deep  things,  and  is  very  keen 
and  earnest  about  it,  he  is  apt  to  find  very  little 
to  help  him  outside  of  himself;  perhaps  it  is  be 
cause  I  have  met  very  few  persons  in  my  life,  but 
it  has  not  happened  to  me  to  find  anyone  who  thinks 
about  it  as  I  do,  or  who  cares  to  live  it  with  my 
strenuousness.  I  have  met  musicians,  some  who 
labored  very  hard  at  their  art,  but  none  who  felt 
it  a  duty  to  labor  with  their  own  souls,  to  make 
them  beautiful  and  strong;  and  I  have  met  literary 
men  and  scholars,  but  they  were  all  interested  in 
books,  and  were  willing  to  be  learned,  and  to 
classify  and  plod;  I  have  never  found  one  who  was 
swift  and  eager,  and  full  of  high  impatience  for 
what  is  real  and  the  best.  There  should  come 
times  to  a  man,  I  think,  when  he  feels  that  books 
are  an  impertinence,  when  he  knows  that  he  has 
only  the  long-delayed  battle  with  his  own  heart  to 
fight,  and  the  prize  of  its  joy  to  win.  When  such 
moods  come  upon  him  he  sees  that  he  has  to  live  his 
life  upon  his  knees,  and  it  is  rarely  indeed  that  he 
knows  of  anyone  who  can  follow  him  and  share  in 

263 


KING  MIDAS 

his  labor.  So  it  is  that  I  have  had  to  live  all  my 
life  by  myself,  Miss  Davis." 

"You  have  always  done  that?"  Helen  asked,  as 
he  stopped. 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  "or  for  very  many  years.  I 
have  a  little  house  on  the  wildest  of  lakes  up  in  the 
mountains,  where  I  play  the  hermit  in  the  summer, 
and  where  I  should  have  been  now  if  it  had  not 
been  that  I  yielded  to  your  aunt's  invitation.  When 
I  spoke  of  having  no  friends  I  forgot  the  things  of 
Nature,  which  really  do  sympathize  with  an  artist's 
life;  I  find  that  they  never  fail  to  become  full  of 
meaning  whenever  my  own  spirit  shakes  off  its 
bonds.  It  has  always  been  a  belief  of  mine  that 
there  is  riothing  that  Nature  makes  that  is  quite 
so  dull  and  unfeeling  as  man, — with  the  exception 
of  children  and  lovers,  I  had  much  rather  play  my 
violin  for  the  flowers  and  the  trees." 

"You  like  to  play  it  out  of  doors?"  Helen  asked, 
with  a  sudden  smile. 

"Yes,"  laughed  the  other,  "that  is  one  of  my 
privileges  as  a  hermit.  It  seems  quite  natural  to 
the  wild  things,  for  they  have  all  a  music  of  their 
own,  a  wonderful,  silent  music  that  the  best  musi 
cians  cannot  catch;  do  you  not  believe  that,  Miss 
Davis?" 

"Yes,"  Helen  said,  and  sat  gazing  at  her  com 
panion  silently  for  a  minute.  "I  should  think  a  life 
of  such  effort  would  be  very  hard,"  she  said  finally. 
"Do  you  not  ever  fail?" 

"I  do  not  do  much  else,"  he  replied  with  a  sad 
smile,  "and  get  up  and  stumble  on.  The  mastership 
of  one's  heart  is  the  ideal,  you  know;  and  after  all 

264 


KIXG  MIDAS 

one's  own  life  cannot  be  anything  but  struggle  and 
failure,  for  the  power  lie  is  Irving  to  conquer  is  in 
finite.  When  I  find  my  life  very  hard  I  do  not  com 
plain,  but  know  that  the  reason  for  it  is  that  I  have 
chosen  to  have  it  real,  and  that  the  essence  of  the 
soul  is  its  effort.  I  think  that  is  a  very  important 
thing  to  feel  about  life,  Miss  Davis." 

"That  is  why  I  do  not  wish  to  be  idle,"  said  Helen. 

"It  is  just  because  people  do  not  know  this  fact 
about  the  soul,"  the  other  continued,  "and  are  not 
willing  to  dare  and  suffer,  and  overcome  dullness, 
and  keep  their  spiritual  faculties  free,  that  they 
sink  down  as  they  grow  older,  and  become  what 
they  call  practical,  and  talk  very  wisely  about  ex 
perience.  It  is  only  when  God  sends  into  the  world 
a  man  of  genius  that  no  mountains  of  earth  can 
crush,  and  who  keeps  his  faith  and  sweetness  all 
through  his  life  that  we  learn  the  baseness  of  the 
thought  that  experience  necessarily  brings  cyni 
cism  and  selfishness.  There  is  to  me  in  all  this  world 
nothing  more  hateful  than  this  disillusioned  world- 
liness,  and  nothing  makes  me  angrier  than  to  see 
it  taking  the  name  of  wisdom.  If  I  were  a  man  with 
an  art,  there  is  nothing,  I  think,  that  I  should  feel 
more  called  to  make  war  upon;  it  is  a  very  blow  in 
the  face  of  God.  Nothing  makes  me  sadder  than  to 
see  the  life  that  such  people  live, — to  see  for  in 
stance  how  pathetic  are  the  things  they  call  their 
entertainments;  and  when  one  knows  himself  that 
life  is  a  magic  potion,  to  be  drank  with  rapture  and 
awe, — that  every  instance  of  it  ought  to  be  a  hymn 
of  rejoicing,  and  the  whole  of  it  rich  and  full  of 
power,  like  some  majestic  symphony.  I  often  find 

265 


KING  MIDAS 

myself  wishing  that  there  were  some  way  of  saving 
the  time  that  people  spend  in  their  pleasures; 

"'Life  piled  on  life 
Were  all  too  little,  and  of  one  to  me 
Little  remains.' 

As  I  kneel  before  God's  altar  of  the  heart  I  know 
that  if  I  had  infinite  time  and  infinite  energy  there 
would  be  beauty  and  joy  still  to  seek,  and  so  as  I 
look  about  me  in  the  world  and  see  all  the  sin  and 
misery  that  is  in  it,  it  is  my  comfort  to  know  that 
the  reason  for  it  is  that  men  are  still  living  the 
lives  of  the  animals,  and  have  not  even  dreamed  of 
the  life  that  belongs  to  them  as  men.  That  is 
something  about  which  I  feel  very  strongly  myself, 
— that  is  part  of  my  duty  as  a  man  who  seeks  wor 
ship  and  Tightness  to  mark  that  difference  in  my 
own  life  quite  plainly." 

Mr.  Howard  paused  for  a  moment,  and  Helen  said 
very  earnestly,  "I  wish  that  you  would  tell  me  about 
that." 

"I  consider  it  my  duty,"  the  other  replied,  "to 
keep  all  the  external  circumstances  of  my  life  as 
simple  and  as  humble  as  I  should  have  to  if  I  were 
quite  poor.  If  I  were  not  physically  unable,  I 
should  feel  that  I  ought  to  do  for  my  own  self  all 
that  I  needed  to  have  done,  for  I  think  that  if  it  is 
necessary  that  others  should  be  degraded  to  menial 
service  in  order  that  my  soul  might  be  beautiful 
and  true,  then  life  is  bad  at  the  heart  of  it,  and  I 
want  none  of  its  truth  and  beauty.  I  do  not  have 
to  look  into  my  heart  very  long,  Miss  Davis,  to  dis 
cover  that  what  I  am  seeking  in  life  is  something 

266 


KING  MIDAS 

that  no  millions  of  money  ran  buy  me;  and  when  I 
am  face  to  face  with  the  sternness  of  what  1  call 
that  spiritual  fact,  I  see  that  tine  houses  and  all 
the  rest  are  a  foolish  kind  of  toy,  and  wonder  that 
any  man  should  think  that  he  can  please  me  by 
giving  the  labor  of  his  soul  to  making  them.  It  is 
much  the  same  thing  as  I  feel,  for  instance,  when  I 
go  to  hear  a  master  of  music,  and  find  that  he  has 
spent  his  hours  in  torturing  himself  and  his  fingers 
in  order  to  give  me  an  acrobatic  exhibition,  when 
all  the  time  what  I  wish  him  to  do,  and  what  his 
genius  gave  him  power  to  do,  was  to  find  the  magic 
word  that  should  set  free  the  slumbering  demon  of 
my  soul.  So  I  think  that  a  man  who  wishes  to  grow 
by  sympathy  and  worship  should  do  without  wealth, 
if  only  because  it  is  so  trivial;  but  of  course  I  have 
left  unmentioned  what  is  the  great  reason  for  a 
self-denying  life,  the  reason  that  lies  at  the  heart 
of  the  matter,  and  that  includes  all  the  others  in 
it, — that  he  who  lives  by  prayer  and  joy  makes  all 
men  richer,  but  he  who  takes  more  than  his  bare 
necessity  of  the  wealth  of  the  body  must  know  that 
he  robs  his  brother  when  he  does  it.  The  things  of 
the  soul  are  everywhere,  but  wealth  stands  for  the 
toil  and  suffering  of  human  beings,  and  thousands 
must  starve  and  die  so  that  one  rich  man  may  live 
at  ease.  That  is  no  fine  rhetoric  that  I  am  in 
dulging  in,  but  a  very  deep  and  earnest  conviction 
of  my  soul;  first  of  all  facts  of  morality  stands  the 
law5  that  the  life  of  man  is  labor,  and  that  he 
who  chooses  to  live  otherwise  is  a  dastard.  He  may 
chase  the  phantom  of  happiness  all  his  days  and  not 
find  it,  and  yet  never  guess  the  reason, — that  joy  is 

267 


KING  MIDAS 

a  melody  of  the  heart,  and  that  he  is  playing  upon 
an  instrument  that  is  out  of  tune.  Few  people 
choose  to  think  of  that  at  all,  but  I  cannot  afford 
ever  to  forget  it,  for  my  task  is  to  live  the  artist's 
life,  to  dwell  close  to  the  heart  of  things;  it  is  some 
thing  that  I  simply  cannot  understand  how  any 
man  who  pretends  to  do  that  can  know  of  the  suf 
fering  and  starving  that  is  in  the  world,  and  can 
feel  that  he  who  has  God's  temple  of  the  soul  for 
his  dwelling,  has  right  to  more  of  the  pleasures  of 
earth  than  the  plainest  food  and  shelter  and  what 
tools  of  his  art  he  requires.  If  it  is  otherwise  it 
can  only  be  because  he  is  no  artist  at  all,  no  lover 
of  life,  but  only  a  tradesman  under  another  name, 
using  God's  high  gift  to  get  for  himself  what  he 
can,  and  thinking  of  his  sympathy  and  feeling  as 
things  that  he  puts  on  when  he  goes  to  work,  and 
when  he  is  sure  that  they  will  cost  him  no  trouble." 

Mr.  Howard  had  been  speaking  very  slowly,  and 
in  a  deep  and  earnest  voice;  he  paused  for  a  mo 
ment,  and  then  added  with  a  slight  smile,  "I  have 
been  answering  your  question  without  thinking 
about  it,  Miss  Davis,  for  I  have  told  you  all  that 
there  is  to  tell  about  my  life." 

Helen  did  not  answer,  but  sat  for  a  long  time 
gazing  at  him  and  thinking  very  deeply;  then  she 
said  to  him,  her  voice  shaking  slightly:  "You  have 
answered  only  half  of  my  question,  Mr.  Howard;  I 
want  you  to  tell  me  what  a  woman  can  do  to  bring 
those  high  things  into  her  life — to  keep  her  soul 
humble  and  strong.  I  do  not  think  that  I  have  youi 
courage  and  self-reliance." 

The  man's  voice  dropped  lower  as  he  answered 

268 


KING  MIDAS 

her,  "Suppose  that  you  were  to  find  this  friend  of 
yours  that  knows  you  so  well,  and  loves  you  so 
truly;  do  you  not  think  that  there  might  be  a  chance 
for  you  to  win  this  prize  of  life  that  I  speak  of?" 
Helen  did  not  reply,  but  sat  with  her  eyes  still  fixed 
upon  the  other's  countenance;  as  he  went  on,  his 
deep,  musical  voice  held  them  there  by  a  spell. 

"Miss  Davis,"  he  said,  "a  man  does  not  live  very 
long  in  the  kingdom  of  the  soul  before  there  comes 
to  be  one  thing  that  he  loves  more  than  anything 
else  that  life  can  offer;  that  thing  is»love.  For  love 
•is  the  great  gateway  into  the  spiritual  life,  the 
stage  of  life's  journey  when  human  beings  are  un 
selfish  and  true  to  their  hearts,  if  ever  the  power 
of  unselfishness  and  truth  lies  in  them.  As  for  man, 
he  has  many  battles  to  fight  and  much  of  himself  to 
kill  before  the  great  prizes  of  the  soul  can  be  his; 
but  the  true  woman  has  but  one  glory  and  one  duty 
in  life,  and  sacredness  and  beauty  are  hers  by  the 
free  gift  of  God.  If  she  be  a  true  woman,  when  her 
one  great  passion  takes  its  hold  upon  her  it  carries 
all  her  being  with  it,  and  she  gives  herself  and  all 
that  she  has.  Because  I  believe  in  unselfishness  and 
know  that  love  is  the  essence  of  things,  I  find  in  all 
the  world  nothing  more  beautiful  than  that,  and 
think  that  she  has  no  other  task  in  life,  except  to 
see  that  the  self  which  she  gives  is  her  best  and 
highest,  and  to  hold  to  the  thought  of  the  sacred- 
ness  of  what  she  is  doing.  For  love  is  the  soul's 
great  act  of  worship,  and  the  heart's  great  awaken 
ing  to  life.  If  the  man  be  selfish  and  a  seeker  of 
pleasure,  what  I  say  of  love  and  woman  is  not  for 
him;  but  if  he  be  one  who  seeks  to  worship,  to 

269 


KING  MIDAS 

rouse  the  soul  within  him  to  its  vision  of  the  beauty 
and  preciousness  of  life,  then  he  must  know  that 
this  is  the  great  chance  that  Nature  gives  him, 
that  no  effort  of  his  own  will  ever  carry  him  so  far 
towards  what  he  seeks.  The  woman  who  gives  her 
self  to  him  he  takes  for  his  own  with  awe  and 
trembling,  knowing  that  the  glory  which  he  reads 
in  her  eyes  is  the  very  presence  of  the  spirit  of  life; 
and  because  she  stands  for  this  precious  thing  to 
him  he  seeks  her  love  more  than  anything  else  upon 
earth,  feeling  that  if  he  has  it  he  has  everything, 
and  if  he  has  it  not,  he  has  nothing.  He  cherishes 
the  woman  as  before  he  cherished  what  was  best  in 
his  own  soul;  he  chooses  all  fair  and  noble  actions 
that  may  bring  him  still  more  of  her  love;  all  else 
that  life  has  for  him  he  lays  as  an  offering  at  the 
shrine  of  her  heart,  all  his  joy  and  all  his  care,  and 
asks  but  love  in  return;  and  because  the  giving  of 
love  is  the  woman's  joy  and  the  perfectness  of  her 
sacrifice,  her  glory,  they  come  to  forget  themselves 
in  each  other's  being,  and  to  live  their  lives  in  each 
other's  hearts.  The  joy  that  each  cares  for  is  no 
longer  his  own  joy,  but  the  other's;  and  so  they 
come  to  stand  for  the  sacredness  of  God  to  each 
other,  and  for  perpetual  inspiration.  By  and  by, 
perhaps,  from  long  dwelling  out  of  themselves  and 
feeding  their  hearts  upon  things  spiritual,  they 
learn  the  deep  and  mystic  religion  of  love,  that  is 
the  last  lesson  life  has  to  teach;  it  is  given  to  no 
man  to  know  what  is  the  source  of  this  mysterious 
being  of  ours,  but  men  who  come  near  to  it  find  it 
so  glorious  that  they  die  for  it  in  joy;  and  the  least 
glimpse  of  it  gives  a  man  quite  a  new  feeling  about 

270 


KING  MIDAS 

a  human  heart.  So  at  last  it  happens  that  the  lov 
ers  read  a  fearful  wonder  in  each  other's  eyes,  and 
give  each  other  royal  greeting,  no  longer  for  what 
they  are,  but  for  that  which  they  would  like  to  be. 
They  come  to  worship  together  as  they  could  never 
have  worshiped  apart;  and  always  that  which  they 
worship  and  that  in  which  they  dwell,  is  what  all 
existence  is  seeking  with  so  much  pain,  the  sacred 
presence  of  wonder  that  some  call  Truth,  and  some 
Beauty, — but  all  Love.  When  you  ask  me  how  un 
selfishness  is  to  be  made  yours  in  life,  that  is  the 
answer  which  I  give  you." 

Mr.  Howard's  voice  had  dropped  very  low;  as  he 
stopped  Helen  was  trembling  within  herself.  She 
was  drinking  still  more  from  the  bottomless  cup  of 
her  humiliation  and  remorse,  for  she  was  still 
haunted  by  the  specter  of  what  she  had  done.  The 
man  went  on  after  an  interval  of  silence. 

"I  think  there  is  no  one,"  he  said,  "whom  these 
things  touch  more  than  the  man  wrho  would  live  the 
life  of  art  that  I  have  talked  of  before;  for  the 
artist  seeks  experience  above  all  things,  seeks  it 
not  only  for  himself  but  for  his  race.  And  it  must 
come  from  his  own  heart;  no  one  can  drive  him  to 
his  task.  All  artists  tell  that  the  great  source  of 
their  power  is  love;  and  the  wisest  of  them  makes 
of  his  love  an  art-work,  as  he  makes  an  art- work 
of  his  life.  He  counts  his  power  of  loving  most 
sacred  of  all  his  powers,  and  guards  it  from  harm 
as  he  guards  his  life  itself;  he  gives  all  his  soul  to 
the  dreaming  of  that  dream,  and  lays  all  his 
prayer  before  it;  and  when  he  meets  with  the 
maiden  who  will  honor  such  effort,  he  forgets  every- 

271 


KING  MIDAS 

thing  else  in  his  life,  and  gives  her  all  his  heart,  and 
studies  to  'worship  her  by  years  of  noble  deeds.7 
For  a  woman  who  loves  love,  the  heart  of  such  a 
man  is  a  lifetime's  treasure;  for  his  passion  is  of  the 
soul,  and  does  not  die;  and  all  that  he  has  done  has 
been  really  but  a  training  of  himself  for  that  great 
consecration.  If  he  be  a  true  artist,  all  his  days 
have  been  spent  in  learning  to  wrestle  with  him 
self,  to  rouse  himself  and  master  his  own  heart; 
until  at  last  his  very  being  has  become  a  prayer, 
and  his  soul  like  a  great  storm  of  wind  that  sweeps 
everything  away  in  its  arms.  Perhaps  that  hunger 
has  possessed  him  so  that  he  never  even  wakens 
in  the  dead  of  night  without  finding  it  with  him 
in  all  its  strength;  it  rouses  him  in  the  morning 
with  a  song,  and  when  midnight  comes  and  he  is 
weary,  it  is  a  benediction  and  a  hand  upon  his  brow. 
All  the  time,  because  he  has  a  man's  heart  and 
knows  of  his  life's  great  glory,  his  longing  turns  to 
a  dream  of  love,  to  a  vision  of  the  flying  perfect 
for  which  all  his  life  is  a  search.  There  is  a  maiden 
who  dwells  in  all  the  music  that  he  hears,  and  who 
calls  to  him  in  the  sunrise,  and  flings  wide  the 
flowers  upon  the  meadows;  she  treads  before  him 
on  the  moonlit  waters  and  strews  them  with  show 
ers  of  fire.  If  his  soul  be  only  strong  enough,  per 
haps  he  waits  long  years  for  that  perfect  woman, 
that  woman  who  loves  not  herself,  but  loves  love; 
and  all  the  time  the  yearning  of  his  heart  is  grow 
ing,  so  that  those  who  gaze  at  him  wonder  why  his 
eyes  are  dark  and  sunken.  He  knows  that  his  heart 
is  a  treasure-house  which  he  himself  cannot  ex 
plore,  and  that  in  all  the  world  he  seeks  nothing 

272 


KING  MIDAS 

but  some  woman  before  whom  he  might  fling  wide 
its  doors." 

Helen  had  been  leaning  on  the  table,  holding  her 
hands  in  front  of  her;  towards  the  end  they  were 
trembling  so  much  that  she  took  them  away  and 
clasped  them  in  her  lap.  When  he  ceased  her  eyes 
were  lowered;  she  could  not  see  how  his  were  fixed 
upon  her,  but  she  knew  that  her  bosom  was  heaving 
painfully,  and  that  there  were  hot  tears  upon  her 
cheeks.  He  added  slowly:  "I  have  told  you  all 
that  I  think  about  life,  my  dear  friend,  and  all  that 
I  think  about  love;  so  I  think  I  have  told  you  all 
that  I  know.1'  And  Helen  lifted  her  eyes  to  his  and 
gazed  at  him  through  her  tears. 

"You  tell  me  of  such  things?"  she  asked.  "You 
give  such  advice  to  me!" 

"Yes,"  said  the  other,  gently,  "why  not  to  you?" 

"Mr.  Howard,"  Helen  answered,  "do  you  not  know 
what  I  have  done,  and  how  I  must  feel  while  I  listen 
to  you?  It  is  good  that  I  should  hear  such  things, 
because  I  ought  to  suffer;  but  when  I  asked  you  for 
your  advice  I  wished  for  something  hard  and  stern 
to  do,  before  I  dared  ever  think  of  love,  or  feel  my 
self  right  again." 

Mr.  Howard  sat  watching  her  for  a  moment  in 
silence,  and  then  he  answered  gently,  "I  do  not 
think,  my  dear  friend,  that  it  is  our  duty  as  strug 
gling  mortals  to  feel  ourselves  right  at  all;  I  ;im 
not  even  sure  that  we  ought  to  care  about  our  right- 
ness  in  the  least.  For  God  has  put  high  and  beauti 
ful  things  in  the  world,  things  that  call  for  all  our 
attention;  and  I  am  sure  that  we  are  never  so  close 
to  Tightness  as  when  we  give  all  our  devotion  to 

'8  273 


KING  MIDAS 

them  and  cease  quite  utterly  to  think  about  our 
selves.  And  besides  that,  the  love  that  I  speak  of 
is  not  easy  to  give,  Miss  Davis.  It  is  easy  to  give 
up  one's  self  in  the  first  glow  of  feeling;  but  to  for 
get  one's  self  entirely,  and  one's  comfort  and  happi 
ness  in  all  the  little  things  of  life;  to  consecrate 
one's  self  and  all  that  one  has  to  a  lifetime  of 
patience  and  self-abnegation;  and  to  seek  no  re 
ward  and  ask  for  no  happiness  but  love, — do  you 
not  think  that  such  things  would  cost  one  pain  and 
bring  a  good  conscience  at  last?" 

Helen's  voice  was  very  low  as  she  answered, 
"Perhaps,  at  last."  Then  she  sat  very  still,  and 
finally  raised  her  deep,  earnest  eyes  and  leaned  for 
ward  and  gazed  straight  into  her  companion's. 
"Mr.  Howard,"  she  said,  "you  must  know  that  you 
are  my  conscience;  and  it  is  the  memory  of 'your 
words  that  causes  me  all  my  suffering.  And  now 
tell  me  one  thing;  suppose  I  were  to  say  to  you  that 
I  could  beg  upon  my  knees  for  a  chance  to  earn 
such  a  life  as  that;  and  suppose  I  should  ever  come 
really  to  love  someone,  and  should  give  up  every 
thing  to  win  such  a  treasure,  do  you  think  that  I 
could  clear  my  soul  from  what  I  have  done,  and  win 
Tightness  for  mine?  Do  you  think  that  you — that 
you  could  ever  forget  that  I  was  the  woman  who 
had  wished  to  sell  her  love  for  money?" 

Mr.  Howard  answered  softly,  "Yes,  I  think  so." 
"But  are  you  sure  of  it?"  Helen  asked;  and  when 
she  had  received  the  same  reply  she  drew  a  long 
breath,  and  a  wonderful  expression  of  relief  came 
upon  her  face;  all  her  being  seemed  to  rise, — as  if 
all  in  an  instant  she  had  flung  away  the  burden  of 

274 


KING  MIDAS 

shame  and  fear  that  had  been  crushing  her  soul. 
She  sat  gazing  at  the  other  with  a  strange  look  in 
her  eyes,  and  then  she  sank  down  and  buried  her 
head  in  her  arms  upon  the  table. 

And  fully  a  minute  passed  thus  without  a  sound. 
Helen  was  just  lifting  her  head  again,  and  Mr.  How 
ard  was  about  to  speak,  when  an  unexpected  in 
terruption  caused  him  to  stop.  The  front  door  was 
opened,  and  as  Helen  turned  with  a  start  the 
servant  came  and  stood  in  the  doorway. 

"What  is  it,  Elizabeth?"  Helen  asked  in  a  faint 
voice. 

"I  have  just  been  to  the  post  office,"  the  woman 
answered;  "here  is  a  letter  for  you." 

"Very  well,"  Helen  answered;  "give  it  to  me." 

And  she  took  it  and  put  it  on  the  table  in  front  of 
her.  Then  she  waited  until  the  servant  was  gone, 
and  in  the  meantime,  half  mechanically,  turned  her 
eyes  upon  the  envelope.  Suddenly  the  man  saw  her 
give  a  violent  start  and  turn  very  pale;  she  snatched 
up  the  letter  and  sprang  to  her  feet,  and  stood  sup 
porting  herself  by  the  chair,  her  hand  shaking,  and 
her  breath  coming  in  gasps. 

"What  is  it?"  Mr.  Howard  cried. 

Helen's  voice  was  hoarse  and  choking  as  she 
answered  him:  "It  is  from  Arthur!"  As  he  started 
and  half  rose  from  his  chair  the  girl  tore  open  the 
letter  and  unfolded  the  contents,  glancing  at  it  once 
very  swiftly,  her  eyes  flying  from  line  to  line;  the 
next  instant  she  let  it  fall  to  the  floor  with  a  cry 
and  clutched  with  her  hands  at  her  bosom.  She 
tried  to  speak,  but  she  was  choking  with  her  emo 
tion;  only  her  companion  saw  that  her  face  was 

275 


KING  MIDAS 

transfigured  with  delight;  and  then  suddenly  she 
sank  down  upon  the  sofa  beside  her,  her  form 
shaken  with  hysterical  laughter  and  sobbing. 

Mr.  Howard  had  risen  from  his  chair  in  wonder; 
but  before  he  could  take  a  step  toward  her  he  heard 
someone  in  the  hall,  and  Mr.  Davis  rushed  into  the 
room.  "Helen,  Helen!"  he  exclaimed,  "what  is  the 
matter?"  and  sank  down  upon  his  knees  beside  her; 
the  girl  raised  her  head  and  then  flung  herself  into 
his  arms,  exclaining  incoherently:  "Oh,  Daddy,  I 
am  free!  Oh,  oh — can  you  believe  it — I  am  free!" 

Long  after  her  first  ecstasy  had  passed  Helen  still 
lay  with  her  head  buried  in  her  father's  bosom, 
trembling  and  weeping  and  repeating  half  as  if  in 
a  dream  that  last  wonderful  word,  "Free!"  Mean 
while  Mr.  Davis  had  bent  down  and  picked  up  the 
paper  to  glance  over  it. 

Most  certainly  Arthur  would  have  wondered  had 
he  seen  the  effect  of  that  letter  upon  Helen;  for  he 
wrote  to  her  with  bitter  scorn,  and  told  her  that  he 
had  torn  his  love  for  her  from  his  heart,  and  made 
himself  master  of  his  own  life  again.  He  bid  her  go 
on  in  the  course  she  had  chosen,  for  a  day  or  two 
had  been  enough  for  him  to  find  the  end  of  her 
power  over  him,  and  of  his  care  for  her;  and  he 
added  that  he  wrote  to  her  only  that  she  might  not 
please  herself  with  the  thought  of  having  wrecked 
him,  and  that  he  was  going  far  away  to  begin  his 
life  again. 

The  words  brought  many  emotions  to  Mr.  Davis, 
and  suggested  many  doubts;  but  to  Helen  they 
brought  but  one  thought.  She  still  clung  to  her 
father,  sobbing  like  a  child  and  muttering  the  one 

276 


KING  MIDAS 

word  "Free!'*  When  at  last  the  fit  had  vented  itself 
and  she  looked  up  again,  she  seemed  to  Mr.  Howard 
more  like  a  girl  than  she  ever  had  before;  and  she 
wiped  away  her  tears  laughingly,  and  smoothed 
back  her  hair,  and  was  wonderfully  beautiful  in 
her  emotion.  She  introduced  Mr.  Howard  to  her 
father,  and  begged  him  to  excuse  her  for  her  lack 
of  self-control.  UI  could  not  help  it,"  she  said,  "for 
oh,  I  am  so  happy — so  happy!"  And  she  leaned  her 
head  upon  her  father's  shoulder  again  and  gazed  up 
into  his  face.  "Daddy  dear,"  she  said,  "and  are  you 
not  happy  too?" 

"My  dear,"  Mr  Davis  protested,  "of  course  I  am 
glad  to  hear  that  Arthur  is  himself  again.  But 
that  is  not  finding  him,  and  I  fear " 

"Oh,  oh,  please  don't!"  Helen  cried,  the  fright 
ened  look  coming  back  upon  her  face  in  a  flash 
"Oh  please  do  not  tell  me  that — no,  no!  Do  let  me 
be  happy  just  a  little  while — think  of  it,  how 
wretched  I  have  been !  And  now  to  know  he  is  safe ! 
Oh,  please,  Daddy!"  And  the  tears  had  welled  up 
in  Helen's  eyes  again.  She  turned  quickly  to  Mr. 
Howard,  her  voice  trembling.  "Tell  me  that  I  may 
be  happy,"  she  exclaimed.  "You  know  all  about  it, 
Mr.  Howard.  Is  it  not  right  that  I  should  be  happy 
just  a  little?" 

As  her  friend  answered  her  gently  that  he 
thought  it  was,  she  sat  looking  at  him  for  a  mo 
ment,  and  then  the  cloud  passed  over.  She  brushed 
away  her  tears,  and  put  her  arms  about  her  father 
again. 

"I  cannot  help  it,"  she  went  on,  quickly,  "I  must 
be  happy  whether  I  want  to  or  not!  You  must  not 

277 


KING  MIDAS 

mind  anything  I  do!  For  oh,  think  what  it  means 
to  have  been  so  wretched,  so  crushed  and  so  fright 
ened!  I  thought  that  all  my  life  was  to  be  like  that, 
that  I  could  never  sing  again,  because  Arthur  was 
ruined.  Nobody  will  ever  know  how  I  felt, — how 
many  tears  I  shed;  and  now  think  what  it  means  to 
be  free — to  be  free, — oh,  free !  And  to  be  able  to  be 
good  once  more!  I  should  go  mad  if  I  thought 
about  it!" 

Helen  had  risen  as  she  spoke,  and  she  spread  out 
her  arms  and  flung  back  her  head  and  drank  in  a 
deep  breath  of  joy.  She  began  singing,  half  to  her 
self;  and  then  as  that  brought  a  sudden  idea  into 
her  mind  she  ran  to  the  window  and  shut  it  quickly. 
"I  will  sing  you  my  hymn!"  she  laughed,  "that  is 
the  way  to  be  happy!" 

And  she  went  to  the  piano;  in  a  minute  more  she 
had  begun  the  chorus  she  had  sung  to  Arthur, 
"Hail  thee  Joy,  from  Heaven  descending!"  The 
flood  of  emotion  that  was  pent  up  within  her  poured 
itself  out  in  the  wild  torrent  of  music,  and  Helen 
seemed  happy  enough  to  make  up  for  all  the  weeks 
of  suffering.  As  she  swept  herself  on  she  proved 
what  she  had  said, — that  she  would  go  mad  if  she 
thought  much  about  her  release;  and  Mr.  Howard 
and  her  father  sat  gazing  at  her  in  wonder.  When 
she  stopped  she  was  quite  exhausted  and  quite 
dazed,  and  came  and  buried  her  head  in  her  father's 
arms,  and  sat  waiting  until  the  heaving  of  her 
bosom  had  subsided,  and  she  was  calm  once  more, — 
in  the  meantime  murmuring  faintly  to  herself  again 
and  again  that  she  was  happy  and  that  she  was  free. 

When  she  looked    up   and    brushed    away  her 

278 


KING  MIDAS 

tangled  hair  again,  perhaps  she  thought  that  her 
conduct  was  not  very  conventional,  for  she  begged 
Mr.  Howard's  pardon  once  more,  promising  to  be 
more  orderly  by  and  by.  Then  she  added,  laughing, 
"It  is  good  that  you  should  see  me  happy,  though, 
because  I  have  always  troubled  you  with  my 
egotisms  before."  She  went  on  talking  merrily, 
until  suddenly  she  sprang  up  and  said,  "I  shall 
have  to  sing  again  if  I  do  not  run  away,  so  I  am 
going  upstairs  to  make  myself  look  respectable!" 
And  with  that  she  danced  out  of  the  room,  waking 
the  echoes  of  the  house  with  her  caroling: 

"Merrily,  merrily,  shall  T  live  now, 
Under  the  blossom  that  hangs  on  the  bough ! " 


Lus  -  tig  im  Leid,       sing'  ich  von     Lieb    -    e  ! 


279 


CHAPTER  XIII 

"Some  one  whom  I  can  court 

With  no  great  change  of  manner, 
Still  holding  reason's  fort, 
Tho  waving  fancy's  banner." 

SEVERAL  weeks  had  passed  since  Helen  had  re 
ceived  the  letter  from  Arthur,  the  girl  having  in 
the  meantime  settled  quietly  down  at  Oakdale  She 
had  seen  few  of  her  friends  excepting  Mr.  Howard, 
who  had  come  out  often  from  the  city. 

She  was  expecting  a  visit  from  him  one  bright 
afternoon,  and  was  standing  by  one  of  the  pillars 
of  the  vine-covered  porch,  gazing  up  at  the  blue  sky 
above  her  and  waiting  to  hear  the  whistle  of  the 
train.  When  she  saw  her  friend  from  the  distance 
she  waved  her  hand  to  him  and  went  to  meet  him, 
laughing,  "I  am  going  to  take  you  out  to  see  my 
stream  and  my  bobolink  to-day.  You  have  not  seen 
our  country  yet,  you  know." 

The  girl  seemed  to  Mr.  Howard  more  beautiful 
that  afternoon  than  he  had  ever  known  her  before; 
for  she  was  dressed  all  in  white  and  there  was  the 
old  spring  in  her  step,  and  the  old  joy  in  her  heart. 
When  they  had  passed  out  of  the  village,  she  found 
the  sky  so  very  blue,  and  the  clouds  so  very  white, 
and  the  woods  and  meadows  so  very  green,  that  she 
was  radiantly  happy  and  feared  that  she  would 
have  to  sing.  And  she  laughed: 


KING  MIDAS 

"Away,   away   from   men   and   towns, 
To  the  wild  wood  and  the  downs!" 

And  then  interrupted  herself  to  say,  "You  must  not 
care,  Mr.  Howard,  if  I  chatter  away  and  do  all  the 
talking.  It  has  been  a  long  time  since  I  have  paid 
a  visit  to  my  friends  out  here,  and  they  will  all  be 
here  to  welcome  me." 

Even  as  Helen  spoke  she  looked  up,  and  there  was 
the  bobolink  flying  over  her  head  and  pouring  out 
his  song;  also  the  merry  breeze  was  dancing  over 
the  meadows,  and  everything  about  her  was  in 
motion. 

"Do  you  know,"  she  told  her  companion,  "I  think 
most  of  the  happiness  of  my  life  has  been  out  in 
these  fields;  I  don't  know  what  made  me  so  fond 
of  the  country,  but  even  when  I  was  a  very  little 
thing,  whenever  I  learned  a  new  song  I  would  come 
out  here  and  sing  it.  Those  were  times  when  I 
had  nothing  to  do  but  be  happy,  you  know,  and  I 
never  thought  about  anything  else.  It  has  always 
been  so  easy  for  me  to  be  happy,  I  don't  know  why. 
There  is  a  fountain  of  joy  in  my  heart  that  wells  up 
whether  I  want  it  to  or  not,  so  that  I  can  always 
be  as  merry  as  I  choose.  I  am  afraid  that  is  very 
selfish,  isn't  it,  Mr.  Howard?  I  am  trying  to  be 
right  now,  you  know." 

"You  may  consider  you  are  being  merry  for  my 
sake  at  present,"  said  the  man  with  a  laugh.  "It  is 
not  always  so  easy  for  me  to  be  joyful." 

"Very  well,  then,"  smiled  Helen;  ul  only  wish 
that  you  had  brought  your  violin  along.  For  you 
see  I  always  think  of  these  things  of  Nature  with 
music;  when  I  was  little  they  were  all  creatures 

281 


KING  MIDAS 

that  danced  with  me.  These  winds  that  are  so  lively 
were  funny  little  fairy-men,  and  you  could  see  all 
the  flowers  shake  as  they  swept  over  them;  when 
ever  I  heard  any  music  that  was  quick  and  bright 
I  always  used  to  fancy  that  some  of  them  had  hold 
of  my  hands  and  were  teaching  me  to  run.  I  never 
thought  about  asking  why,  but  I  used  to  find  that 
very  exciting.  And  then  there  was  my  streamlet — 
he's  just  ahead  here  past  the  bushes — and  I  used  to 
like  him  best  of  all.  For  he  was  a  very  beautiful 
youth,  with  a  crown  of  flowers  upon  his  head;  there 
was  a  wonderful  light  in  his  eyes,  and  his  voice  was 
very  strong  and  clear,  and  his  step  very  swift,  so 
it  was  quite  wonderful  when  you  danced  with  him. 
For  he  was  the  lord  of  all  the  rest,  and  everything 
around  you  got  into  motion  then;  there  was  never 
any  stopping,  for  you  know  the  streamlet  always 
goes  faster  and  faster,  and  gets  more  and  more  joy 
ous,  until  you  cannot  bear  it  any  more  and  have  to 
give  up.  We  shall  have  to  play  the  Kreutzer  Sonata 
some  time,  Mr.  Howard/ 

"I  was  thinking  of  that,"  said  the  other,  smiling. 

"I  think  it  would  be  interesting  to  know  what 
people  imagine  when  they  listen  to  music,"  went 
on  Helen.  "I  have  all  sorts  of  queer  fancies  for 
myself;  whenever  it  gets  too  exciting  there  is  al 
ways  one  last  resource,  you  can  fly  away  to  the  top 
of  the  nearest  mountain.  I  don't  know  just  why 
that  is,  but  perhaps  it's  because  you  can  see  so 
much  from  there,  or  because  there  are  so  many 
winds;  anyway,  there  is  a  dance — a  wonderfully 
thrilling  thing,  if  only  the  composer  knows  how  to 
manage  it.  There  is  someone  who  dances  with  me — 


KING  MIDAS 

I  never  saw  his  face,  but  he's  always  there;  and 
everything  around  you  is  flying  fast,  and  there 
comes  surge  after  surge  of  the  music  and  sweeps 
you  on, — perhaps  some  of  those  wild  runs  on  the 
violins  that  are  just  as  if  the  wind  took  you  up  in 
its  arms  and  whirled  you  away  in  the  air!  That 
is  a  most  tremendous  experience  when  it  happens, 
because  then  you  go  quite  beside  yourself  and  you 
see  that  all  the  world  is  alive  and  full  of  power;  the 
great  things  of  the  forest  begin  to  stir  too,  the 
trees  and  the  strange  shapes  in  the  clouds,  and  all 
the  world  is  suddenly  gone  mad  with  motion;  and 
so  by  the  time  you  come  to  the  last  chords  your 
hands  are  clenched  and  you  can  hardly  breathe, 
and  you  feel  that  all  your  soul  is  throbbing!" 

Helen  was  getting  quite  excited  then,  just  over 
her  own  enthusiasm;  perhaps  it  was  because  the 
wind  was  blowing  about  her.  "Is  that  the  way 
music  does  with  you?"  she  laughed,  as  she  stopped. 

"Sometimes,"  said  Mr.  Howard,  smiling  in  turn; 
"but  then  again  while  all  my  soul  is  throbbing 
I  feel  my  neighbor  reaching  to  put  on  her  wraps, 
and  that  brings  me  down  from  the  mountains  so 
quickly  that  it  is  painful;  afterwards  you  go  out 
side  among  the  cabs  and  cable-cars,  and  make  sad 
discoveries  about  life." 

"You  are  a  pessimist,"  said  the  girl. 

"Possibly,"  responded  the  other,  "but  try  to  keep 
your  fountain  of  joy  a  while.  Miss  Davis.  There  are 
disagreeable  things  in  life  to  be  done,  and  some 
suffering  to  be  borne,  and  sometimes  the  fountain 
dries  up  very  quickly  indeed." 

Helen  was  much  more  ready  to  look  serious  than 

283 


KING  MIDAS 

she  would  have  been  a  month  before;  she  asked  in 
a  different  tone,  "You  think  that  must  always 
happen?" 

"Not  quite  always/'  was  the  reply;  "there  are  a 
few  wrho  manage  to  keep  it,  but  it  means  a  great 
deal  of  effort.  Perhaps  you  never  took  your  own 
happiness  so  seriously,"  he  ad*^-1  T7lth  :.  smile. 

"No,"  said  Helen,  "I  never  made  much  effort  that 
I  know  of." 

"Some  day  perhaps  you  will  have  to,"  replied  the 
other,  "and  then  you  will  think  of  the  creatures  of 
nature  as  I  do,  not  simply  as  rejoicing,  but  as  fight 
ing  the  same  battle  and  daring  the  same  pain  as 
you." 

The  girl  thought  for  a  moment,  and  then  asked: 
"Do  you  really  believe  that  as  a  fact?" 

"I  believe  something,"  was  the  answer,  "that 
makes  me  think  when  I  go  among  men  and  see 
their  dullness,  that  Nature  is  flinging  wide  her  glory 
in  helpless  appeal  to  them;  and  that  it  is  a  dreadful 
accident  that  they  have  no  eyes  and  she  no  voice." 
He  paused  for  a  moment  and  then  added,  smiling, 
"It  would  take  metaphysics  to  explain  that;  and 
meanwhile  we  were  talking  about  your  precious 
fountain  of  joy." 

"I  should  think,"  answered  Helen,  thoughtfully, 
"that  it  would  be  much  better  to  earn  one's  happi 
ness." 

"Perhaps  after  you  had  tried  it  a  while  you  would 
not  think  so,"  replied  her  companion;  "that  is  the 
artist's  life,  you  know,  and  in  practice  it  is  gener 
ally  a  very  dreadful  life.  Keal  effort  is  very  hard 
to  make;  and  there  is  always  a  new  possibility  to 

284 


KING  MIDAS 

lure  the  artist,  so  that  his  life  is  always  restless 
and  a  cruel  defeat." 

"It  is  such  a  life  that  you  have  lived,  Mr. 
Howard?"  asked  Helen,  gazing  at  him. 

"There  are  compensations,"  he  replied,  smiling 
slightly,  "or  there  would  be  no  artists.  There  comes 
to  each  one  who  persists  some  hour  of  victory,  some 
hour  when  he  catches  the  tide  of  his  being  at  the 
flood,  and  when  he  finds  himself  master  of  all  that 
his  soul  contains,  and  takes  a  kind  of  fierce  delight 
in  sweeping  himself  on  and  in  breaking  through 
everything  that  stands  in  his  way.  You  made  me 
think  of  such  things  by  what  you  said  of  your  joy 
in  music;  only  perhaps  the  artist  discovers  that 
not  only  the  streamlets  and  the  winds  have  motion 
and  meaning,  but  that  the  planets  also  have  a  word 
for  his  soul;  and  his  own  being  comes  suddenly  to 
seem  to  him  a  power  which  it  frightens  him  to  know 
of,  and  he  sees  the  genius  of  life  as  a  spirit  with 
eyes  of  flame.  It  lifts  him  from  his  feet  and  drags 
him  away,  and  the  task  of  his  soul  takes  the  form 
of  something  that  he  could  cry  out  to  escape.  He 
has  fought  his  way  into  the  depths  of  being  at  last, 
and  he  stands  alone  in  all  his  littleness  on  the  shore 
of  an  ocean  whose  wraves  are  centuries — and  then 
even  while  he  is  wondering  and  full  of  fear,  his 
power  begins  to  die  within  him  and  to  go  he  knows 
not  how;  and  when  he  looks  at  himself  again  he 
is  like  a  man  who  has  had  a  dream,  and  wakened 
with  only  the  trembling  left;  except  that  he  knows 
it  was  no  dream  but  a  fiery  reality,  and  that  the 
memory  of  it  will  cast  a  shadow  over  all  the  rest 
of  his  days  and  make  them  seem  trivial  and  mean- 

285 


KING  MIDAS 

ingless.  No  one  knows  how  many  years  he  may 
spend  in  seeking  and  never  find  that  lost  glory 
again." 

Mr.  Howard  had  been  speaking  very  intensely, 
and  when  he  stopped  Helen  did  not  reply  at  once, 
but  continued  gazing  at  him.  "What  is  the  use  of 
such  moments,"  she  asked  at  last,  "if  they  only 
make  one  wretched?" 

"At  least  one  may  keep  the  memory,"  he  replied 
with  a  smile,  "and  that  gives  him  a  standard  of 
reality.  He  learns  to  be  humble,  and  learns  how 
to  judge  men  and  men's  glory,  and  the  wonderful 
things  of  men's  world, — so  that  while  they  are  the 
most  self-occupied  and  self-delighted  creatures  liv 
ing  he  may  see  them  as  dumb  cattle  that  are  graz 
ing  while  the  sunrise  is  firing  the  hilltops." 

"You  have  had  such  moments  yourself?"  asked 
Helen. 

"A  long  time  ago,"  said  the  other,  smiling  at  the 
seriousness  with  which  she  spoke.  "When  you 
were  telling  me  about  your  musical  fancies  you 
made  me  remember  how  once  when  I  was  young  I 
climbed  a  high  hill  and  had  an  adventure  with  a 
wind  that  was  very  swift  and  eager.  At  first  I 
recollect  I  tried  not  to  heed  it,  because  I  had  been 
dull  and  idle  and  unhappy;  but  I  found  that  I  could 
not  be  very  long  in  the  presence  of  so  much  life 
without  being  made  ashamed,  and  that  brave  wind 
storm  put  me  through  a  course  of  repentance  of  the 
very  sternest  kind  before  it  let  me  go.  I  tried  just 
to  promise  that  I  would  be  more  wide-awake  and 
more  true,  but  it  paid  not  the  least  attention  to 
that;  and  it  would  hear  no  arguments  as  to  the 

286 


KING  MIDAS 

consequences, — it  raiw  again  and  again  with  a 
furious  burst,  and  swept  me  away  every  time  I 
tried  to  think;  it  declared  that  I  had  been  putting 
off  the  task  of  living  my  life  long  enough,  and  that 
I  was  to  attend  to  it  then  and  there.  And  when  I 
gave  myself  up  as  demanded,  it  had  not  the  least 
mercy  upon  me,  and  each  time  that  I  protested  that 
1  was  at  the  end  of  my  power  it  simply  whirled 
me  away  again  like  a  mad  thing.  When  at  last  I 
came  down  from  the  hillside  I  had  quite  a  new  idea 
of  what  living  meant,  and  I  have  been  more  respect 
ful  before  the  winds  and  other  people  of  genius  ever 
since." 

Helen  felt  very  much  at  home  in  that  merry 
phantasy  of  her  companion's,  but  she  did  not  say 
anything;  after  a  moment's  waiting  the  other  went 
on  to  tell  her  of  something  else  that  pleased  her 
no  less.  "I  remember,"  he  said,  "how  as  I  came 
down  I  chanced  upon  a  very  wonderful  sight,  one 
which  made  an  impression  upon  me  that  I  have  not 
forgotten.  It  was  a  thicket  of  wild  roses;  and  I 
have  always  dreamed  that  the  wild  rose  was  a 
creature  of  the  wind  and  fire,  but  I  never  knew  so 
much  about  it  before.  After  that  day  I  have  come 
seriously  to  believe  it  would  be  best  if  we  prudent 
and  timid  creatures,  who  neither  dare  nor  care 
anything  for  the  sake  of  beauty, — if  we  simply  did 
not  ever  see  the  wild  rose.  For  it  lives  only  for  a 
day  or  two,  Miss  Davis,  and  yet,  as  I  discovered 
then,  we  may  live  all  our  years  and  never  get  one 
such  burst  of  glory,  one  such  instant  of  exultation 
and  faith  as  that.  And  also  I  seriously  think  that 
among  men  and  all  the  wonderful  works  of  men 

287 


KING  MIDAS 

there  is  nothing  so  beautiful  and  so  precious  as 
that  little  flower  that  none  of  them  heeds." 

Mr.  Howard  glanced  at  the  girl  suddenly;  she  had 
half  stopped  in  her  walk,  and  she  was  gazing  at 
him  with  a  very  eager  look  in  her  bright  eyes. 
"What  is  it?"  he  asked  her,  and  Helen  exclaimed, 
"Oh,  I  am  so  glad  you  mentioned  it!  I  had  forgot 
ten, — actually  forgotten!" 

As  her  friend  looked  puzzled,  the  girl  went  on 
with  her  merriest  laugh,  "I  must  tell  you  all  about 
it,  and  we  shall  be  happy  once  more;  for  you  turn 
down  this  path  towards  the  woods,  and  then  you 
must  go  very  quietly  and  hold  your  breath,  and 
prepare  yourself  just  as  if  you  were  going  into  a 
great  cathedral;  for  you  want  all  your  heart  to  be 
full  of  expectation  and  joy!  It  is  for  only  about  one 
week  in  the  year  that  you  may  see  this  great  sight, 
and  the  excitement  of  the  first  rapture  is  best  of  all. 
It  would  be  so  dreadful  if  you  were  not  reverent; 
you  must  fancy  that  you  are  coming  to  hear  a 
wonderful  musician,  and  you  know  that  he'll  play 
for  you,  but  you  don't  know  just  when.  That's  what 
I  used  to  pretend,  and  I  used  to  come  every  day  for 
a  week  or  two,  and  very  early  in  the  morning, 
when  the  dew  was  still  everywhere  and  the  winds 
were  still  gay.  Several  times  you  go  back  home 
disappointed,  but  that  only  makes  you  more  eager 
for  the  next  time;  and  when  you  do  find  them  it 
is  wonderful — oh,  most  wonderful!  For  there  is 
a  whole  hedge  of  them  along  the  edge  of  the  wood; 
and  you  may  be  just  as  madly  happy  as  you  choose 
and  never  be  half  happy  enough,  because  they  are 
so  beautiful!" 

288 


KING  MIDAS 

"These  are  wild  roses?"  asked  the  other,  smiling. 

"Yes,"  said  Helen,  "and  oh,  think  how  many  days 
I  have  forgotten  them,  and  they  may  have  bloomed! 
And  for  three  years  I  have  not  been  here,  and  I 
was  thinking  about  it  all  the  way  over  on  the 
steamer."  They  had  come  to  the  path  that  turned 
off  to  the  woods,  and  Helen  led  her  companion 
down  it,  still  prattling  away  in  the  meantime; 
when  they  came  to  the  edge  of  the  woods  she  began 
walking  upon  tip  toe,  and  put  her  fingers  upon  her 
lips  in  fun.  Then  suddenly  she  gave  a  cry  of  de 
light,  for  there  were  the  roses  for  a  fact,  a  whole 
hedge  of  them  as  she  had  said,  glowing  in  the  bright 
sun  and  making  a  wonderful  vision. 

The  two  stopped  and  stood  gazing  at  them,  the 
girl's  whole  soul  dancing  within  her.  "Oh  do  you 
know,"  she  cried  suddenly,  "I  think  that  I  could  get 
drunk  with  just  looking  at  roses!  There  is  a 
strange  kind  of  excitement  that  comes  over  one, 
from  drinking  in  the  sight  of  their  rich  red,  and 
their  gracefulness  and  perfume;  it  makes  all  my 
blood  begin  to  flow  faster,  and  I  quite  forget  every 
thing  else."  Helen  stood  for  a  few  moments  longer 
with  her  countenance  of  joy;  afterwards  she  went 
towards  the  flowers  and  knelt  down  in  front  of 
them,  choosing  a  bud  that  was  very  perfect.  "I 
always  allow  myself  just  one,"  she  said,  "just  one 
for  love,"  and  then  she  bent  over  it,  whispering 
softly: 

"Hush,  'tis  the  lullaby  time  is  singing, 
Hush  and  heed  not,  for  all  things  pass." 

She  plucked  it  and  held  it  up  before  her,  while  the 
wind  came  up  behind  her  and  tossed  it  about,  and 

19  289 


KING  MIDAS 

tossed  her  skirts;  Helen,  radiant  with  laughter, 
glanced  at  her  companion,  saying  gaily,  "You  must 
hold  it  very  lightly,  just  like  this,  you  know,  with 
one  finger  and  a  thumb;  and  then  you  may  toss  it 
before  you  and  lose  yourself  in  its  perfectness, 
until  it  makes  all  your  soul  feel  gracious.  Do  you 
know,  Mr.  Howard,  I  think  one  could  not  live  with 
the  roses  very  long  without  becoming  beautiful?" 

"That  was  what  Plato  thought,"  said  the  other 
with  a  smile, — "and  many  other  wise  people." 

"I  only  wish  that  they  might  bloom  forever," 
said  the  girl,  "I  should  try  it." 

Her  companion  had  been  lost  in  watching  her,  and 
now  as  she  paused  he  said:  "Sometimes  I  have  been 
happy  with  the  roses,  too,  Miss  Davis.  Here  is  some 
music  for  your  flower."  She  gazed  at  him  eagerly, 
and  he  recited,  half  laughingly: 

"Wild  rose,  wild  rose,  sing  me  thy  song, 

Come,   let   us   sing   it   together! — 
I  hear  the  silver  streamlet  call 

From  his  home  in  the  dewy  heather. 

"Let  us  sing  the  wild  dance  with  the  mountain  breeze, 

The  rush  of  the  mountain  rain, 
And  the  passionate  clasp  of  the  glowing  sun 
When  the  clouds  are  rent  again. 

"They  tell  us  the  time  for  the  song  is  short, 

That  the  wings  of  joy  are  fleet; 
But  the  soul  of  the  rose  has  bid  me  sing 
That  oh,  while  it  lasts  'tis  sweet!" 

Afterwards  Helen  stood  for  a  moment  in  silence; 
then  a  happy  idea  came  to  her  mind,  and  she  turned 
towards  the  hedge  of  roses  once  more  and  threw 
back  her  head  upon  the  wind  and  took  a  deep 
breath  and  began  singing  a  very  beautiful  melody. 

290 


KING  MIDAS 


As  it  swelled  out  Helen's  joy  increased  until  her 
face  was  alight  with  laughter,  and  very  wonderful 
to  see;  she  stood  with  the  rose  tossing  in  one  of  her 
hands,  and  with  the  other  pressed  upon  her  bosom, 
— "singing  of  summer  in  full-throated  ease."  One 
might  have  been  sure  that  the  roses  knew  what 
she  was  saying,  and  that  all  about  her  loved  her 
for  her  song. 

Yet  the  girl  had  just  heard  that  the  wings  of  joy 
are  fleet;  and  she  was  destined  to  find  even  then 
that  it  was  true.  For  when  she  stopped  she  turned 
to  her  companion  with  a  happy  smile  and  said, 
"Do  you  know  what  that  is  that  I  was  singing?1' 
When  he  said  "No,"  she  went  on,  "It  is  some  wild- 
rose  music  that  somebody  made  for  me,  I  think. 
It  is  in  the  same  book  as  the  'Water  Lily'  that  I 
played  you."  And  then  in  a  flash  the  fearful  mem 
ory  of  that  evening  came  over  the  girl,  and  made 
her  start  back;  for  a  moment  she  stood  gazing  at 
her  friend,  breathing  very  hard,  and  then  she  low 
ered  her  eyes  and  whispered  faintly  to  herself, 
"And  it  was  not  a  month  ago!" 

There  was  a  long  silence  after  that,  and  when 
Helen  looked  up  again  the  joy  was  gone  out  of  her 
face,  and  she  was  the  same  frightened  soul  as  be 
fore.  Her  lips  were  trembling  a  little  as  she  said, 
"Mr.  Howard,  I  feel  somehow  that  I  have  no  right 
to  be  quite  happy,  for  I  have  done  nothing  to  make 

291 


KING  MIDAS 

myself  good."  Then,  thinking  of  her  friend,  she 
added,  "I  am  spoiling  your  joy  in  the  roses!  Can 
you  forgive  me  for  that?"  As  he  answered  that 
he  could,  Helen  turned  away  and  said,  "Let  us  go 
into  the  woods,  because  I  do  not  like  to  see  them 
any  more  just  now." 

They  passed  beneath  the  deep  shadows  of  the 
trees,  and  Helen  led  Mr.  Howard  to  the  spring 
where  she  had  been  with  Arthur.  She  sat  down 
upon  the  seat,  and  then  there  was  a  long  silence, 
the  girl  gazing  steadfastly  in  front  of  her;  she  was 
thinking  of  the  last  time  she  had  been  there,  and 
how  it  was  likely  that  the  pale,  wan  look  must  still 
be  upon  Arthur's  face.  Mr.  Howard  perhaps  divined 
her  thought,  for  he  watched  her  for  a  long  time 
without  speaking  a  word,  and  then  at  last  he  said 
gently,  as  if  to  divert  her  attention,  "Miss  Davis, 
I  think  that  you  are  not  the  first  one  whom  the 
sight  of  the  wild  rose  has  made  unhappy." 

Helen  turned  and  looked  at  him,  and  he  gazed 
gravely  into  her  eyes.  For  at  least  a  minute  he 
said  nothing;  when  he  went  on  his  voice  was  much 
changed,  and  Helen  knew  not  what  to  expect  "Miss 
Davis,"  he  said,  "God  has  given  to  the  wild  rose  a 
very  wonderful  power  of  beauty  and  joy;  and  per 
haps  the  man  who  looks  at  it  has  been  dreaming 
all  his  life  that  somewhere  he  too  might  find  such 
precious  things  and  have  them  for  his  own.  When 
he  sees  the  flower  there  comes  to  him  the  fearful 
realization  that  with  all  the  effort  of  his  soul  he 
has  never  won  the  glory  which  the  wild  rose  wears 
by  Heaven's  free  gift;  and  that  perhaps  in  his  lone 
liness  and  weakness  he  has  even  forgotten  all 

292 


KING  MIDAS 

about  such  high  perfection.  So  there  rises  within 
him  a  yearning  of  all  his  being  to  forget  his  misery 
and  his  struggling,  and  to  lay  all  his  worship  and 
all  his  care  before  the  flower  that  is  so  sweet;  he 
is  afraid  of  his  own  sin  and  his  own  baseness,  and 
now  suddenly  he  finds  a  way  of  escape, — that  he 
will  live  no  longer  for  himself  and  his  own  happi 
ness,  but  that  his  joy  shall  be  the  rose's  joy,  and 
all  his  life  the  rose's  life.  Do  you  think,  my  dear 
friend,  that  that  might  please  the  flower?" 

"Yes,"  said  Helen  wonderingly,  "it  would  be 
beautiful,  if  one  could  do  it." 

The  other  spoke  more  gently  still  as  he  answered 
her,  his  voice  trembling  slightly:  "And  do  you  not 
know,  Miss  Davis,  that  God  has  made  you  a  rose?" 

The  girl  started  visibly;  she  whispered,  "You  say 
that  to  me,  Mr.  Howard?  Why  do  you  say  that  to 
me?" 

And  he  fixed  his  dark  eyes  upon  her,  his  voice 
very  low  as  he  responded:  "I  say  it  to  you, — be 
cause  I  love  you." 

And  Helen  shrank  back  and  stared  at  him;  and 
then  as  she  saw  his  look  her  own  dropped  lower 
and  lower  and  the  color  mounted  to  her  face.  Mr. 
Howard  paused  for  a  moment  or  two  and  then  very 
gently  took  one  of  her  hands  in  his,  and  went  on: 

"Helen,"  he  said, — "you  must  let  me  call  you 
Helen — listen  to  me  a  while,  for  I  have  something 
to  tell  you.  And  since  we  both  of  us  love  the  roses 
so  much,  perhaps  it  will  be  beautiful  to  speak  of 
them  still.  I  want  to  tell  you  how  the  man  who 
loves  the  flower  needs  not  to  love  it  for  his  own 
sake,  but  may  love  it  for  the  flower's;  how  one  who 

293 


KING  MIDAS 

really  worships  beauty,  worships  that  which  is  not 
himself,  and  the  more  he  worships  it  the  less  he 
thinks  of  himself.  And  Helen,  you  can  never  know 
how  hard  a  struggle  my  life  has  been,  just  to  keep 
before  me  something  to  love, — how  lonely  a  strug 
gle  it  has  been,  and  how  sad.  I  can  only  tell  you 
that  there  was  very  little  strength  left,  and  very 
little  beauty,  and  that  it  was  all  I  could  do  to  re 
member  there  was  such  a  thing  as  joy  in  the 
world,  and  that  I  had  once  possessed  it.  The  music 
that  moved  me  and  the  music  that  I  made  was 
never  your  wild-rose  singing,  but  such  yearning, 
restless  music  as  you  heard  in  the  garden.  I  can 
not  tell  you  how  much  I  have  loved  that  little  piece 
that  I  played  then;  perhaps  it  is  my  own  sad  heart 
that  finds  such  breathing  passion  in  it,  but  I  have 
sent  it  out  into  the  darkness  of  many  a  night, 
dreaming  that  somewhere  it  might  waken  an  echo. 
For  as  long  as  the  heart  beats  it  never  ceases  to 
hunger  and  to  hope,  and  I  felt  that  somewhere  in 
the  world  there  must  be  left  some  living  creature 
that  was  beautiful  and  pure,  and  that  might  be 
loved.  So  it  was  that  when  I  saw  you  all  my  soul 
was  roused  within  me;  you  were  the  fairest  of  all 
God's  creatures  that  I  had  ever  seen.  That  was 
why  I  was  so  bitter  at  first,  and  that  was  why  all 
my  heart  went  out  to  you  when  I  saw  your  suffer 
ing,  and  why  it  is  to  me  the  dearest  memory  of  my 
lifetime  that  I  was  able  to  help  you.  Afterwards 
when  I  saw  how  true  you  were,  I  was  happier  than 
I  had  ever  dared  hope  to  be  again;  for  when  I  went 
back  to  my  lonely  little  home,  it  was  no  longer  to 
think  about  myself  and  my  sorrow  and  my  dullness, 

294 


KING  MIDAS 

but  to  think  about  you, — to  rejoice  in  your  salva 
tion,  and  to  pray  for  you  in  your  trouble,  and  to 
wait  for  the  day  when  I  might  see  you  again.  And 
so  I  knew  that  something  had  happened  to  me  for 
which  I  had  yearned,  oh  so  long  and  so  painfully! — 
that  my  heart  had  been  taken  from  me,  and  that 
I  was  living  in  another  life;  J  knew,  dear  Helen, 
that  I  loved  you.  I  said  to  myself  long  ago,  before 
you  got  Arthur's  letter,  that  I  would  wait  for  the 
chance  to  say  this  to  you,  to  take  your  hand  in  mine 
and  say:  Sweet  girl,  the  law  of  my  life  has  been 
.that  all  my  soul  I  must  give  to  the  best  thing  that 
ever  I  know;  and  that  thing  is  you.  You  must 
know  that  I  love  you,  and  how  I  love  you;  that  I 
lay  myself  at  your  feet  and  ask  to  help  you  and 
watch  over  you  and  strengthen  you  all  that  I  may. 
For  your  life  is  young  and  there  is  much  to  be  hoped 
for  in  it,  and  to  my  own  poor  self  there  is  no  longer 
any  duty  that  I  owe.  My  heart  is  yours,  and  I  ask 
for  nothing  but  that  I  may  love  you.  Those  were 
the  words  that  I  first  meant  to  say  to  you,  Helen; 
and  to  ask  you  if  it  pleased  you  that  I  should  speak 
to  you  thus." 

Mr.  Howard  stopped,  and  after  he  had  waited  a 
minute,  the  girl  raised  her  eyes  to  his  face.  She 
did  not  answer  him,  but  she  put  out  her  other  hand 
and  laid  it  very  gently  in  his  own. 

There  was  a  long  silence  before  the  man  con 
tinued;  at  last  he  said,  "Dear  Helen,  that  was  what 
I  wished  to  say  to  you,  and  no  more  than  that,  be 
cause  I  believed  that  I  was  old,  and  that  my 
heart  was  dying  within  me.  But  oh,  when  that  let 
ter  came  from  Arthur,  it  was  as  if  I  heard  the  voice 

295 


KING  MIDAS 

of  my  soul  crying  out  to  me  that  my  life  had  just 
begun,  that  I  had  still  to  love.  As  I  came  out  here 
into  the  forest  with  you  to-day,  my  soul  was  full  of 
a  wondrous  thought,  a  thought  that  brought  more 
awe  and  rapture  than  words  have  power  to  tell;  it 
was  that  this  precious  maiden  was  not  made  to  be 
happy  alone,  but  that  some  day  she  and  all  her  being 
would  go  out  to  someone,  to  someone  who  could  win 
her  heart,  who  could  love  her  and  worship  her  as 
she  deserved.  And  my  soul  cried  out  to  me  that  / 
could  worship  you;  the  thought  wakened  in  me  a 
wilder  music  than  ever  I  had  heard  in  my  life  be 
fore.  Here  as  I  kneel  before  you  and  hold  your 
hands  in  mine,  dear  Helen,  all  my  being  cries  out 
to  you  to  come  to  me;  for  in  your  sorrow  your  heart 
has  been  laid  bare  to  my  sight,  and  I  have  seen  only 
sweetness  and  truth.  To  keep  it,  and  serve  it,  and 
feed  it  upon  thoughts  of  beauty,  would  be  all  that  I 
could  care  for  in  life;  and  the  thought  of  winning 
you  for  mine,  so  that  all  your  life  I  might  cherish 
you,  is  to  me  a  joy  which  brings  tears  into  my  eyes. 
Oh,  dearest  girl,  I  must  live  before  you  with  that 
prayer,  and  tell  me  what  you  will,  I  must  still  pray 
it.  Nor  do  I  care  how  long  you  ask  me  to  wait ;  my 
life  has  now  but  one  desire,  to  love  you  in  such  a 
way  as  best  may  please  you,  to  love  you  as  much 
as  you  will  let  me.  Helen,  I  have  told  all  myself 
to  you,  and  here  as  we  gaze  into  each  other's  eyes 
our  souls  are  bare  to  each  other.  As  I  say  those 
words  they  bring  to  me  a  thought  that  sweeps  away 
all  my  being, — that  perhaps  the  great  sorrow  you 
have  known  has  chastened  your  heart  so  that  you 
too  wish  to  forget  yourself,  and  worship  at  the 

296 


KING  MIDAS 

shrine  of  love;  I  see  you  trembling,  and  I  think  that 
perhaps  it  may  be  that,  and  that  it  needs  only  a  word 
of  mine  to  bring  your  soul  to  me!  What  that 
thought  is  I  cannot  tell  you;  but  oh,  it  has  been  the 
dream  of  my  life,  it  has  been  the  thing  for  which  1 
have  lived,  and  for  which  I  was  dying.  If  I  could 
win  you  for  mine,  Helen,  for  mine — and  take  you 
away  with  me,  away  from  all  else  but  love!  The 
thought  of  it  chokes  me,  and  fills  me  with  mighty 
anguish  of  yearning;  and  my  soul  burns  for  you, 
and  I  stretch  out  my  arms  to  you;  and  I  cry  out  to 
you  that  the  happiness  of  my  life  is  in  your  hands 
—that  I  love  you — oh,  that  I  love  you!" 

As  the  man  had  been  speaking  he  had  sunk 
down  before  Helen,  still  clasping  her  hands  in  his 
own.  A  great  trembling  had  seized  upon  the  girl 
and  her  bosom  was  rising  and  falling  swiftly;  but 
she  mastered  herself  with  a  desperate  effort  and 
looked  up,  staring  at  him.  "You  tell  me  that  you 
love  me,"  she  gasped,  "you  tell  me  that  I  am  per 
fect!  And  yet  you  know  what  I  have  done — you 
have  seen  all  my  wrongness!" 

Her  voice  broke,  and  she  could  not  speak  a  word 
more;  she  bowed  her  head  and  the  trembling  came 
again,  while  the  other  clasped  her  hands  more 
tightly  and  bent  towards  her.  "Helen,"  he  said, 
"I  call  you  to  a  sacred  life  that  forgets  all  things 
but  love.  Precious  girl,  my  soul  cries  out  to  me 
that  I  have  a  right  to  you,  that  you  were  made  that 
I  might  kneel  before  you;  it  cries  out  to  me,  'Speak 
the  word  and  claim  her,  claim  her  for  your  own, 
for  no  man  could  love  her  more  than  you  love  her. 
Tell  her  that  all  your  life  you  have  waited  for  this 

297 


KING  MIDAS 

sacred  hour  to  come;  tell  her  that  you  have  power 
and  life,  and  that  all  your  soul  is  hers!'  And  oh, 
dear  heart,  if  only  you  could  tell  rne  that  you  might 
love  me,  that  years  of  waiting  might  win  you,  it 
would  be  such  happiness  as  I  have  never  dared  to 
dream.  Tell  me,  Helen,  tell  me  if  it  be  true!" 

And  the  girl  lifted  her  face  to  him,  and  he  saw 
that  all  her  soul  had  leaped  into  her  eyes.  Her 
bosom  heaved,  and  she  flung  back  her  head  and 
stretched  wide  her  arms,  and  cried  aloud,  "Oh, 
David,  I  do  love  you!" 

He  clasped  her  in  his  arms  and  pressed  her  upon 
his  bosom  in  an  ecstasy  of  joy,  and  kissed  the  lips 
that  had  spoken  the  wonderful  words.  "Tell  me," 
he  exclaimed,  "you  will  be  mine?"  And  she  an 
swered  him,  "Yours!" 

For  that  there  was  no  answer  but  the  clasp  of  his 
love.  At  last  he  whispered,  "Oh,  Helen,  a  lifetime 
of  worship  can  never  repay  you  for  words  like 
those.  My  life,  my  soul,  tell  me  once  more,  for  you 
cannot  be  mine  too  utterly;  tell  me  once  more  that 
you  are  mine!" 

And  suddenly  she  leaned  back  her  head  and 
looked  into  his  burning  eyes,  and  began  swiftly,  her 
voice  choking:  "Oh,  listen,  listen  to  me! — if  it  be 
a  pleasure  to  you  to  know  how  you  have  this  heart. 
I  tell  you,  wonderful  man  that  God  has  given  me 
for  mine,  that  I  loved  you  the  first  word  that  I 
heard  you  speak  in  the  garden.  You  were  all  that 
I  knew7  of  in  life  to  yearn  for — you  were  a  wonderful 
light  that  had  flashed  upon  me  and  blinded  me; 
and  when  I  saw  my  own  vileness  in  it  I  flung  my 
self  down  on  my  face,  and  felt  a  more  fearful  de- 

298 


KING  MIDAS 

spair  than  I  had  ever  dreamed  could  torture  a  soul. 
I  would  have  crawled  to  you  upon  my  knees  and 
groveled  in  the  dirt  and  begged  you  to  have  mercy 
upon  me;  and  afterwards  when  you  lifted  me  up, 
I  could  have  kissed  the  ground  that  you  trod.  But 
oh,  I  knew  one  thing,  and  it  was  all  that  gave  me 
courage  ever  to  look  upon  you;  I  heard  the  sacred 
voice  of  my  womanhood  within  me,  telling  me  that 
I  was  not  utterly  vile,  because  it  was  in  my  igno 
rance  that  I  had  done  my  sin;  and  that  if  ever  I  had 
known  what  love  really  was,  I  should  have  laughed 
at  the  wealth  of  empires.  To  win  your  heart  I 
would  fling  away  all  that  I  ever  cared  for  in  life — 
my  beauty,  my  health,  my  happiness — yes,  I  would 
fling  away  my  soul!  And  when  you  talked  to  me  of 
love  and  told  me  that  its  sacrifice  was  hard,  I — J, 
little  girl  that  I  am — could  have  told  you  that  you 
were  talking  as  a  child;  and  I  thought,  'Oh,  if  only 
this  man,  instead  of  urging  me  to  love  another  and 
win  my  peace,  if  only  he  were  not  afraid  to  trust  me, 
if  only  he  were  willing  that  I  should  love  him!'  And 
this  afternoon  when  I  set  out  with  you,  do  you 
know  what  was  the  real  thing  that  lay  at  the  bot 
tom  of  my  heart  and  made  me  so  happy?  I  said 
to  myself,  'It  may  take  months,  and  it  may  take 
years,  but  there  is  a  crown  in  life  that  I  may  win — 
that  I  may  win  forever!  And  this  man  ahall  tell 
me  my  duty,  and  night  and  day  I  shall  watch  and 
pray  to  do  it,  and  do  more;  and  he  will  not  know 
why  I  do  it,  but  it  shall  be  for  nothing  but  the  love 
of  him;  and  some  day  the  worship  that  is  in  his 
heart  shall  come  to  me,  tho  it  find  me  upon  my 
death-bed/  And  now  you  take  me  and  tell  me  that 

290 


KING  MIDAS 

I  have  Only  to  love  you;  and  you  frighten  me,  and 
I  cannot  believe  that  it  is  true!  But  oh,  you  are 
pilot  and  master,  and  you  know,  and  I  will  believe 
you — only  tell  me  this  wonderful  thing  again  that 
I  may  be  sure — that  in  spite  of  all  my  weakness 
and  my  helplessness  and  my  failures,  you  love  me — 
and  you  trust  me — and  you  ask  for  me.  If  that  is 
really  the  truth,  David, — tell  me  if  that  is  really 
the  truth!" 

David  whispered  to  her,  "Yes,  yes;  that  is  the 
truth;"  and  the  girl  went  on  swiftly,  half  sobbing 
with  her  emotion : 

"If  you  tell  me  that,  what  more  do  I  need  to 
know?  You  are  my  life  and  my  soul,  and  you  call 
me.  For  the  glory  of  your  wonderful  love  I  will 
leave  all  the  rest  of  the  world  behind  me,  and  you 
may  take  me  where  you  will  and  when  you  will,  and 
do  with  me  what  you.  please.  And  oh,  you  who 
frightened  me  so  about  my  wrongness  and  told  me 
how  hard  it  was  to  be  right — do  you  know  how 
easy  it  is  for  me  to  say  those  words?  And  do  you 
know  how  happy  I  am — because  I  love  you  and  you 
are  mine?  David — my  David — my  heart  has  been 
so  full, — so  wild  and  thirsty, — that  now  when  you 
tell  me  that  you  want  all  my  love,  it  is  a  word  of 
glory  to  me,  it  tells  me  to  be  happy  as  never  in  my 
life  have  I  been  happy  before!" 

And  David  bent  towards  her  and  kissed  her  upon 
her  beautiful  lips  and  upon  her  forehead;  and  he 
pressed  the  trembling  form  closer  upon  him,  so  that 
the  heaving  of  her  bosom  answered  to  his  own. 
"Listen,  my  love,  my  precious  heart,"  he  whispered, 
"I  will  tell  you  about  the  vision  of  my  life,  now 

300 


KING  MIDAS 

when  you  and  I  are  thus  heart  to  heart.  Helen, 
my  soul  cries  out  that  this  union  must  be  perfect, 
in  mind  and  soul  and  body  a  blending  of  all  our 
selves;  so  that  we  may  live  in  each  other's  hearts, 
and  seek  each  other's  perfection;  so  that  we  may 
have  nothing  one  from  the  other,  but  be  one  and  the 
same  soul  in  the  glory  of  our  love.  That  is  such  a 
sacred  thought,  my  life,  my  darling;  it  makes  all 
my  being  a  song!  And  as  I  clasp  you  to  me  thus, 
and  kiss  you,  I  feel  that  I  have  never  been  so  near 
to  God.  I  have  worshiped  all  my  days  in  the  great 
religion  of  love,  and  now  as  the  glory  of  it  burns 
in  my  heart  I  feel  lifted  above  even  us,  and  see  that 
it  is  because  of  Him  that  we  love  each  other  so; 
because  He  is  one,  our  souls  may  be  one,  actually 
and  really  one,  so  that  each  loses  himself  and  lives 
the  other's  life.  I  know  that  I  love  you  so  that 
I  can  fling  my  whole  self  away,  and  give  up  every 
thought  in  life  but  you.  As  I  tell  you  that,  my 
heart  is  bursting;  oh!  drink  in  this  passion  of  mine, 
and  tell  me  once  more  that  you  love  me!" 

Helen  had  still  been  leaning  back  her  head  and 
gazing  into  his  eyes,  all  her  soul  uplifted  in  the 
glory  of  her  emotion;  there  was  a  wild  look  upon 
her  face, — and  her  breath  was  coming  swiftly.  For 
a  moment  more  she  gazed  at  him,  and  then  she 
buried  her  face  on  his  shoulder,  crying,  "Mine — 
mine!"  For  a  long  time  she  clung  to  him,  breathing 
the  word  and  quite  lost  in  the  joy  of  it;  until  at  last 
she  leaned  back  her  head  and  gazed  up  into  his  eyes 
once  more. 

"Oh,  David,"  she  said,  "what  can  I  answer  you? 
I  can  only  tell  you  one  thing,  that  here  I  am  in  your 

301 


KING  MIDAS 

arms,  and  that  I  am  yours — yours !  And  I  love  you, 
oh,  before  God  I  love  you  with  all  my  soul!  And 
I  am  so  happy — oh,  David,  so  happy!  Dearest 
heart,  can  you  not  see  how  you  have  won  me,  so 
that  I  cannot  live  without  you,  so  that  anything  you 
ask  of  me  you  may  have?  I  cannot  tell  you  any 
more,  because  I  am  trembling  so,  and  I  am  so  weak ; 
for  this  has  been  more  than  I  can  bear,  it  is  as  if 
all  my  being  were  melting  within  me.  But  oh,  I 
never  thought  that  a  human  being  could  be  so 
happy,  or  that  to  love  could  be  such  a  world  of 
wonder  and  joy." 

Helen,  as  she  had  been  speaking,  had  sunk  down 
exhaustedly,  letting  her  head  fall  forward  upon  her 
bosom;  she  lay  quite  limp  in  David's  arms,  while  lit 
tle  by  little  the  agitation  that  had  so  shaken  her 
subsided.  In  the  meantime  he  was  bending  over  the 
golden  hair  that  was  so  wild  and  so  beautiful,  and 
there  were  tears  in  his  eyes.  When  at  last  the  girl 
was  quiet  she  leaned  back  her  head  upon  his  arm 
and  looked  up  into  his  face,  and  he  bent  over  her 
and  pressed  a  kiss  upon  her  mouth.  Helen  gazed 
into  his  eyes  and  asked  him: 

"David,  do  you  really  know  what  you  have  done 
to  this  little  maiden,  how  fearfully  and  how  madly 
you  have  made  her  yours  ?  I  never  dreamed  of  what 
it  could  mean  to  love  before;  when  men  talked  to 
me  of  it  I  laughed  at  them,  and  the  touch  of  their 
hands  made  me  shrink.  And  now  here  I  am,  and 
everything  about  me  is  changed.  Take  me  away 
with  you,  David,  and  keep  me — I  do  not  care  what 
becomes  of  me,  if  only  you  let  me  have  your  heart." 

The  girl  closed  her  eyes  and  lay  still  again  for  a 

302 


KING  MIDAS 

long  time;  when  she  began  to  speak  once  more  it 
was  softly,  and  very  slowly,  and  half  as  if  in  a 
dream:  "David/'  she  whispered,  "my  David,  I  am 
tired;  I  think  I  never  felt  so  helpless.  But  oh, 
dear  heart,  it  seems  a  kind  of  music  in  my  soul, — 
that  I  have  cast  all  my  sorrow  away,  and  that  I 
may  be  happy  again,  and  be  at  peace — at  peace!" 
And  the  girl  repeated  the  words  to  herself  more 
and  more  gently,  until  her  voice  had  died  away  al 
together;  the  other  was  silent  for  a  long  time,  gaz 
ing  down  upon  the  perfect  face,  and  then  at  last  he 
kissed  the  trembling  eyelids  till  they  opened  once 
again. 

"Sweet  girl,"  he  whispered,  "as  God  gives  me  life 
you  shall  never  be  sorry  for  that  beautiful  faith,  or 
sorry  that  you  have  laid  bare  your  heart  to  me." 
Long  afterwards,  having  watched  her  without 
speaking,  he  wrent  on  with  a  smile,  "I  wonder  if  you 
would  not  be  happier  yet,  dearest,  if  I  should  tell 
you  all  the  beautiful  things  that  I  mean  to  do  with 
you.  For  now  that  you  are  all  mine,  I  am  going 
to  carry  you  far  away;  you  will  like  that,  will  you 
not,  precious  one?" 

He  saw  a  little  of  an  old  light  come  back  into 
Helen's  eyes  as  he  asked  that  question.  "What 
difference  does  it  make?"  she  asked,  gently. 

David  laughed  and  went  on:  "Very  well  then, 
you  shall  have  nothing  to  do  with  it.  I  shall  take 
you  in  my  arms  just  as  you  are.  And  I  have  a 
beautiful  little  house,  a  very  little  house  among  the 
wildest  of  mountains,  and  there  we  shall  live  this 
wonderful  summer,  all  alone  with  our  wonderful 
love.  And  there  we  shall  have  nature  to  worship, 

303 


KING  MIDAS 

and  beautiful  music,  and  beautiful  books  to  read. 
You  shall  never  have  anything  more  to  think  about 
all  your  life  but  making  yourself  perfect  and 
beautiful." 

The  girl  had  raised  herself  up  and  was  gazing  at 
him  with  interest  as  he  spoke  thus.  But  he  saw  a 
swift  frown  cross  her  features  at  his  last  words, 
and  he  stopped  and  asked  her  what  was  the  matter. 
Helen's  reply  was  delivered  very  gravely.  "What 
I  was  to  think  about,"  she  said,  "was  settled  long 
ago,  and  I  wish  you  would  not  say  wicked  things 
like  that  to  me." 

A  moment  later  she  laughed  at  herself  a  little; 
but  then,  pushing  back  her  tangled  hair  from  her 
forehead,  she  went  on  seriously :  "David,  what  you 
tell  me  of  is  all  that  I  ever  thought  of  enjoying  in 
life;  and  yet  I  am  so  glad  that  you  did  not  say  any 
thing  about  it  before!  For  I  want  to  love  you  be 
cause  of  you,  and  I  want  you  to  know  that  I  would 
follow  you  and  worship  you  and  live  in  your  love 
if  there  were  nothing  else  in  life  for  you  to  offer 
me.  And,  David,  do  you  not  see  that  you  are  never 
going  to  make  this  poor,  restless  creature  happy 
until  you  have  given  her  something  stern  to  do, 
something  that  she  may  know  she  is  doing  just  for 
your  love  and  for  nothing  else,  bearing  some  effort 
and  pain  to  make  you  happy?" 

The  girl  had  put  her  hands  upon  his  shoulders, 
and  was  gazing  earnestly  into  his  eyes;  he  looked 
at  her  for  a  moment,  and  then  responded  in  a  low 
voice:  "Helen,  dearest,  let  us  not  play  with  fearful 
words,  and  let  us  not  tempt  sorrow.  My  life  has  not 
been  all  happiness,  and  you  will  have  pain  enough 

304 


KING  MIDAS 

to  share  with  me,  I  fear,  poor  little  girl."  She 
thought  in  a  flash  of  his  sickness,  and  she  turned 
quite  pale  as  she  looked  at  him;  but  then  she  bent 
forward  gently  and  folded  her  arms  about  him,  and 
for  a  minute  more  there  was  silence. 

There  were  tears  standing  in  David's  eyes  when 
she  looked  at  him  again.  But  he  smiled  in  spite  of 
them  and  kissed  her  once  more,  and  said:  "Sweet 
heart,  it  is  not  wrong  that  we  should  be  happy 
while  we  can;  and  come  what  may,  you  know,  we 
need  not  ever  cease  to  love.  When  I  hear  such 
noble  words  from  you  I  think  I  have  a  medicine  to 
make  all  sickness  light;  so  be  bright  and  beautiful 
once  more  for  my  sake." 

Helen  smiled  and  answered  that  she  would,  and 
then  her  eye  chanced  to  light  upon  the  ground, 
where  she  saw  the  wild  rose  lying  forgotten;  she 
stooped  down  and  picked  it  up,  and  then  knelt  on 
the  grass  beside  David  and  pressed  it  against  his 
bosom  while  she  gazed  up  into  his  face.  "Once," 
she  said,  smiling  tenderly,  "I  read  a  pretty  little 
stanza,  and  if  you  will  love  me  more  for  it,  I  will 
tell  it  to  you. 

"  'The    sweetest  flower  that  blows 

I  give  you  as  we  part, 
To  you,  it  is  a  rose, 

To  me,  it  is  a  heart.'" 

And  the  man  took  the  flower,  and  took  the  hands 
too,  and  kissed  them;  then  a  memory  chanced  to 
come  to  him,  and  he  glanced  about  him  on  the  moss- 
covered  forest  floor.  He  saw  some  little  clover-like 
leaves  that  all  forest-lovers  love,  and  he  stooped  and 
picked  one  of  the  gleaming  white  blossoms  and  laid 

20  305 


KING  MIDAS 

it  in  Helen's  hands.  "Dearest,"  he  said,  "it  is  beau 
tiful  to  make  love  with  the  flowers;  I  chanced  to 
think  how  I  once  wrote  a  pretty  little  poem,  and  if 
you  will  love  me  more  for  it,  I  will  tell  it  to  you" 
Then  while  the  girl  gazed  at  him  happily,  he  went 
on  to  add,  "This  was  long  before  I  knew  you,  dear, 
and  when  I  worshiped  the  flowers.  One  of  them 
was  this  little  wood  sorrel. 

I  found  it  in  the  forest  dark, 

A  blossom  of  the  snow; 
I  read  upon  its  face  so  fair, 

No  heed  of  human  woe. 

Yet  when  I  sang  my  passion  song 

And  when  the  sun  rose  higher, 
The  flower  flung  wide  its  heart  to  me, 

And  lo!   its  heart  was  fire." 

Helen  gazed  at  him  a  moment  after  he  finished, 
and  then  she  took  the  little  flower  and  laid  it  gently 
back  in  the  group  from  which  he  had  plucked  it; 
afterwards  she  looked  up  and  laughed.  "I  want 
that  poem  for  myself,"  she  said,  and  drew  closer 
to  him,  and  put  her  arms  about  him;  he  gazed  into 
her  upraised  face,  and  there  was  a  look  of  wonder  in 
his  eyes. 

"Oh,  precious  girl,"  he  said,  "I  wonder  if  you  know 
what  a  vision  of  beauty  God  has  made  you !  I  won 
der  if  you  know  how  fair  your  eyes  are,  if  you  know 
what  glory  a  man  may  read  in  your  face!  Helen, 
when  I  look  upon  you  I  know  that  God  has  meant 
to  pay  me  for  all  my  years  of  pain ;  and  it  is  all  that 
I  can  do  to  think  that  you  are  really,  really  mine. 
Do  you  not  know  that  to  gaze  upon  you  will  make 

306 


KING  MIDAS 

me  a  mad,  mad  creature  for  years  and  years  and 
years?" 

Helen  answered  him  gravely:  "With  all  my 
beauty,  David,  I  am  really,  really  yours;  and  I  love 
you  so  that  I  do  not  care  anything  in  the  world 
about  being  beautiful,  except  because  it  makes  you 
happy;  to  do  that  I  shall  be  always  just  as  perfect 
as  I  may,  thro  all  those  mad  years  and  years  and 
years!"  Then,  as  she  glanced  about  her,  she  added: 
"We  must  go  pretty  soon,  because  it  is  late;  but  oh, 
before  we  do,  sweetheart,  will  you  kiss  me  once 
more  for  all  those  years  and  years  and  years?" 

And  David  bent  over  and  clasped  her  in  his  arms 
again, 


Sie      ist      mir       e  -  wig,      ist      mir 


im  -  mer,  Erb  und    Ei  -  gen,  ein    und    all ! 


END  OF  PART  I 


307 


PARTH 


"When  summer  gathers  up  her  robes  of  glory, 
And  like  a  dream  of  beauty  glides  away." 


309 


CHAPTER  I 

"Across  the  hills  and  far  away, 

Beyond  their  utmost  purple  rim, 
And  deep  into  the  dying  day 

The  happy  princess  follow'd  him." 

IT  WAS  several  months  after  Helen's  marriage. 
The  scene  was  a  little  lake,  in  one  of  the  wildest 
parts  of  the  Adirondacks,  surrounded  by  tall  moun 
tains  which  converted  it  into  a  basin  in  the  land, 
and  walled  in  by  a  dense  growth  about  the  shores, 
which  added  still  more  to  its  appearance  of  seclu 
sion.  In  only  one  place  was  the  scenery  more  open, 
where  there  was  a  little  vale  between  two  of  the 
hills,  and  where  a  mountain  torrent  came  rushing 
down  the  steep  incline.  There  the  underbrush  had 
been  cleared  away,  and  beneath  the  great  forest 
trees  a  house  constructed,  a  little  cabin  built  of 
logs,  and  in  harmony  with  the  rest  of  the  scene. 

It  was  only  large  enough  for  two  or  three  rooms 
downstairs,  and  as  many  above,  and  all  were  fur 
nished  in  the  plainest  way.  About  the  main  room 
there  were  shelves  of  books,  and  a  piano  and  a 
well-chosen  music-library.  It  was  the  little  home 
which  for  a  dozen  years  or  more  David  Howard  had 
occupied  alone,  and  where  he  and  Helen  had  spent 
the  golden  summer  of  their  love. 

It  was  late  in  the  fall  then,  and  the  mountains 
were  robed  in  scarlet  and  orange.  Helen  was  stand- 

311 


KING  MIDAS 

ing  upon  the  little  piazza,  a  shawl  flung  about  her 
shoulders,  because  it  was  yet  early  in  the  morning. 
She  was  talking  to  her  father,  who  had  been  paying 
them  a  few  days'  visit,  and  was  taking  a  last  look 
about  him  at  the  fresh  morning  scene  before  it  was 
time  for  him  to  begin  his  long  homeward  journey. 

Helen  was  clad  in  a  simple  dress,  and  with  the 
prettiest  of  white  sun  bonnets  tied  upon  her  head; 
she  was  browned  by  the  sun,  and  looked  a  picture  of 
health  and  happiness  as  she  held  her  father's  arm 
in  hers.  "And  then  you  are  quite  sure  that  you  are 
happy?"  he  was  saying,  as  he  looked  at  her  radiant 
face. 

She  echoed  the  word — "Happy?"  and  then  she 
stretched  out  her  arms  and  took  a  deep  breath  and 
echoed  it  again.  "I  am  so  happy,"  she  laughed,  "I 
never  know  what  to  do!  You  did  not  stay  long 
enough  for  me  to  tell  you,  Daddy!"  She  paused 
for  a  moment,  and  then  went  on,  "I  think  there 
never  was  anybody  in  the  world  so  full  of  joy.  For 
this  is  such  a  beautiful  little  home,  you  know,  and 
we  live  such  a  beautiful  life;  and  oh,  we  love  each 
other  so  that  the  days  seem  to  fly  by  like  the  wind! 
I  never  even  have  time  to  think  how  happy  I  am." 

"Your  husband  really  loves  you  as  much  as  he 
ought,"  said  the  father,  gazing  at  her  tenderly. 

"I  think  God  never  put  on  earth  another  such  man 
as  David,"  replied,  the  girl,  with  sudden  gravity. 
"He  is  so  noble,  and  so  unselfish  in  every  little 
thing;  I  see  it  in  his  eyes  every  instant  that  all  his 
life  is  lived  for  nothing  but  to  win  my  love.  And 
it  just  draws  the  heart  right  out  of  me,  Daddy,  so 
that  I  could  live  on  my  knees  before  him,  just  trying 

312 


KING  MIDAS 

to  tell  him  how  much  I  love  him.  I  cannot  ever 
love  him  enough;  but  it  grows — it  grows  like  great 
music,  and  every  day  my  heart  is  more  full!" 

Helen  was  standing  with  her  head  thrown  back, 
gazing  ahead  of  her;  then  she  turned  and  laughed, 
and  put  her  arm  about  her  father  again,  saying: 
"Haven't  you  just  seen  what  a  beautiful  life  we 
live?  And  oh,  Daddy,  most  of  the  time  I  am  afraid 
because  I  married  David,  when  I  see  how  much  he 
knows.  Just  think  of  it,— he  has  lived  all  alone 
ever  since  he  was  young,  and  done  nothing  but  read 
and  study.  Now  he  brings  all  those  treasures  to 
me,  to  make  me  happy  with,  and  he  frightens  me." 
She  stopped  for  a  moment  and  then  continued 
earnestly:  "I  have  to  be  able  to  go  with  him  every 
where,  you  know,  I  can't  expect  him  to  stay  back  all 
his  life  for  me;  and  that  makes  me  work  very  hard. 
David  says  that  there  is  one  duty  in  the  world 
higher  than  love,  and  that  is  the  duty  of  labor, — that 
no  soul  in  the  world  can  be  right  for  one  instant  if 
it  is  standing  still  and  is  satisfied,  even  with  the 
soul  it  loves.  He  told  me  that  before  he  married  me, 
but  at  first  when  we  came  up  here  he  was  so  im 
patient  that  he  quite  frightened  me;  but  now  I  have 
learned  to  understand  it  all,  and  we  are  wonder 
fully  one  in  everything.  Daddy,  dear,  isn't  it  a 
beautiful  way  to  live,  to  be  always  striving,  and 
having  something  high  and  sacred  in  one's  mind? 
And  to  make  all  of  one's  life  from  one's  own  heart, 
and  not  to  be  dependent  upon  anything  else?  David 
and  I  live  away  off  here  in  the  mountains,  and  we 
never  have  anything  of  what  other  people  call 
comforts  ari  enjoyments — we  have  nothing  but  a 

3i3 


KING  MIDAS 

few  books  and  a  little  music,  and  Nature,  and  our 
own  love;  and  we  are  so  wonderfully  happy  with 
just  those  that  nothing  else  in  the  world  could 
make  any  difference,  certainly  nothing  that  money 
could  buy  us." 

"I  was  worried  when  you  wrote  me  that  you  did 
not  even  have  a  servant,"  said  Mr.  Davis. 

"It  isn't  any  trouble,"  laughed  Helen.  (David's 
man  lived  in  the  village  half  a  mile  away  and  came 
over  every  day  to  bring  what  was  necessary.) 
"This  is  such  a  tiny  little  cottage,  and  David  and 
I  are  very  enthusiastic  people,  and  we  want  to  be 
able  to  make  lots  of  noise  and  do  just  as  we  please. 
We  have  so  much  music,  you  know,  Daddy,  and  of 
course  David  is  quite  a  wild  man  when  he  gets 
excited  with  music." 

Helen  stopped  and  looked  at  her  father  and 
laughed;  then  she  rattled  merrily  on:  "We  are 
both  of  us  just  two  children,  for  David  is  so  much 
in  love  with  me  that  it  makes  him  as  young  as  I 
am;  and  we  are  away  off  from  everything,  and  so 
we  can  be  as  happy  with  each  other  as  we  choose. 
We  have  this  little  lake  all  to  ourselves,  you  know; 
it's  getting  cold  now,  and  pretty  soon  we'll  have  to 
fly  away  to  the  south,  but  all  this  summer  long  we 
used  to  get  up  in  the  morning  in  time  to  see  the 
sun  rise,  and  to  have  a  wonderful  swim.  And  then 
we  have  so  many  things  to  read  and  study;  and 
David  talks  to  me,  and  tells  me  all  that  he  knows; 
and  besides  all  that  we  have  to  tell  each  other  how 
much  we  love  each  other,  which  takes  a  fearful 
amount  of  time.  It  seems  that  neither  of  us  can 
ever  quite  realize  the  glory  of  it,  and  when  we  think 


KING  MIDAS 

of  it,  it  is  a  wonder  that  nobody  ever  told.  Is  not 
that  a  beautiful  way  to  live,  Daddy  dear,  and  to 
love?" 

"Yes,"  said  Mr.  Davis,  "that  is  a  very  beautiful 
way  indeed.  And  I  think  that  my  little  girl  has 
all  that  I  could  wish  her  to  have." 

"Oh,  there  is  no  need  to  tell  me  that!"  laughed 
Helen.  "All  I  wish  is  that  I  might  really  be  like 
David  and  be  worth  his  love;  I  never  think  about 
anything  else  all  day."  The  girl  stood  for  a  moment 
gazing  at  her  father,  and  then,  looking  more  serious, 
she  put  her  arm  about  him  and  whispered  softly: 
"And  oh,  Daddy,  it  is  too  wonderful  to  talk  about, 
but  I  ought  to  tell  you;  for  some  day  by  and  by 
God  is  going  to  send  us  a  new,  oh,  a  new,  new 
wonder!"  And  Helen  blushed  beautifully  as  her 
father  gazed  into  her  eyes. 

He  took  her  hand  tenderly  in  his  own,  and  the 
two  stood  for  some  time  in  silence.  When  it  was 
broken  it  was  by  the  rattling  of  the  wagon  which 
had  come  to  take  Mr.  Davis  away. 

David  came  out  then  to  bid  his  guest  good-by, 
and  the  three  stood  for  a  few  minutes  conversing. 
It  was  not  very  difficult  for  Helen  to  take  leave  of 
her  father,  for  she  would  see  him,  so  she  said,  in 
a  week  or  two  more.  She  stood  waving  her  hands 
to  him,  until  the  bumping  wagon  was  lost  to  sight 
in  the  woods,  and  then  she  turned  and  took  David's 
hand  in  hers  and  gazed  across  the  water  at  the 
gorgeous-colored  mountains.  The  lake  was  spark 
ling  in  the  sunlight,  and  the  sky  was  bright  and 
clear,  but  Helen's  thoughts  took  a  different  turn 
from  that. 


KING  MIDAS 

All  summer  long  she  had  been  rejoicing  in  the 
glory  of  the  landscape  about  her,  in  the  glowing 
fern  and  the  wild-flowers  underfoot,  and  in  the 
boundless  canopy  of  green  above,  with  its  unresting 
song-birds;  now  there  were  only  the  shrill  cries  of 
a  pair  of  blue-jays  to  be  heard,  and  every  puff  of 
wind  that  came  brought  down  a  shower  of  rustling 
leaves  to  the  already  thickly-covered  ground. 

"Is  it  not  sad,  David,"  the  girl  said,  "to  think 
how  the  beauty  should  all  be  going?" 

David  did  not  answer  her  for  a  moment.  "When 
I  think  of  it,"  he  said  at  last,  "it  brings  me  not  so 
much  sadness  as  a  strange  feeling  of  mystery.  Only 
stop,  and  think  of  what  that  vanished  springtime 
meant — think  that  it  was  a  presence  of  living, 
feeling,  growing  creatures, — infinite,  unthinkable 
masses  of  them,  robing  all  the  wrorld;  and  that  now 
the  life  and  the  glory  of  it  all  is  suddenly  gone  back 
into  nothingness,  that  it  was  all  but  a  fleeting 
vision,  a  phantom  presence  on  the  earth.  I  never 
realize  that  without  coming  to  think  of  all  the  other 
things  of  life,  and  that  they  too  are  no  more  real 
than  the  springtime  flowers;  and  so  it  makes  me 
feel  as  if  I  were  walking  upon  air,  and  living  in  a 
dream." 

Helen  was  leaning  against  a  post  of  the  piazza, 
her  eyes  fixed  upon  David  intently.  "Does  that 
not  give  a  new  meaning  to  the  vanished  spring 
time?"  he  asked  her;  and  she  replied  in  a  wonder 
ing  whisper,  "Yes,"  and  then  gazed  at  him  for  a 
long  time. 

"David,"  she  said  at  last,  "it  is  fearful  to  think 

31$ 


KING  MIDAS 

of  a  thing  like  that.  What  does  it  all  mean?  What 
causes  it?" 

"Men  have  been  asking  that  helpless  question 
since  the  dawn  of  time,"  he  answered,  "we  only 
know  what  we  see,  this  whirling  and  weaving  of 
shadows,  with  its  sacred  facts  of  beauty  and  love." 

Helen  looked  at  him  thoughtfully  a  moment,  and 
then,  recollecting  something  she  had  heard  from  her 
father,  she  said,  "But,  David,  if  God  be  a  mystery 
like  that,  how  can  there  be  any  religion?" 

"What  we  may  fancy  God  to  be  makes  no  differ 
ence,"  he  answered.  "That  which  we  know  is 
always  the  same,  we  have  always  the  love  and  al 
ways  the  beauty.  All  men's  religion  is  but  the 
assertion  that  the  source  of  these  sacred  things 
must  be  infinitely  sacred,  and  that  whatever  may 
happen  to  us,  that  source  can  suffer  no  harm;  that 
we  live  by  a  power  stronger  than  ourselves,  and 
that  has  no  need  of  us." 

Helen  was  looking  at  her  husband  anxiously; 
then  suddenly  she  asked  him,  "But  tell  me  then, 
David;  you  do  not  believe  in  heaven?  You  do  not 
believe  that  our  soul's  are  immortal?"  As  he 
answered  her  in  the  negative  she  gave  a  slight  start, 
and  knitted  her  brows;  and  after  another  pause 
she  demanded,  "You  do  not  believe  in  revealed 
religion  then?" 

David  could  not  help  smiling,  recognizing  the 
voice  of  his  clerical  father-in-law;  when  he  an 
swered,  however,  he  was  serious  again.  "Some  day, 
perhaps,  dear  Helen,"  he  said,  "I  will  tell  you  all 
about  what  I  think  as  to  such  things.  But  very 
few  of  the  world's  real  thinkers  believe  in  revealed 

317 


KING  MIDAS 

religions  any  more — they  have  come  to  see  them 
simply  as  guesses  of  humanity  at  God's  great  sacred 
mystery,  and  to  believe  that  God's  way  of  revealing 
Himself  to  men  is  through  the  forms  of  life  itself. 
As  to  the  question  of  immortality  that  you  speak  of, 
I  have  always  felt  that  death  is  a  sign  of  the  fact 
that  God  is  infinite  and  perfect,  and  that  we  are  but 
shadows  in  his  sight;  that  we  live  by  a  power  that 
is  not  our  own,  and  seek  for  beauty  that  is  not  our 
own,  and  that  each  instant  of  our  lives  is  a  free 
gift  which  we  can  only  repay  by  thankfulness  and 
worship." 

He  paused  for  a  moment,  and  the  girl,  who 
had  still  been  gazing  at  him  thoughtfully,  went  on, 
"Father  used  to  talk  about  those  things  to  me, 
David,  and  he  showed  me  how  the  life  of  men  is  all 
spent  in  suffering  and  struggling,  and  that  there 
fore  faith  teaches  us " 

"Yes,  dearest,"  the  other  put  in,  "I  know  all  that 
you  are  going  to  say;  I  have  read  these  arguments 
very  often,  you  know.  But  suppose  that  I  were  to 
tell  you  that  I  think  suffering  and  struggling  is  the 
very  essence  of  the  soul,  and  that  what  faith  teaches 
us  is  that  the  suffering  and  struggling  are  sacred, 
and  not  in  the  least  that  they  are  some  day  to  be 
made  as  nothing?  Dearest,  if  it  is  true  that  the  soul 
makes  this  life  what  it  is,  a  life  of  restless  seeking 
for  an  infinite,  would  it  not  make  the  same  life 
anywhere  else?  Do  you  remember  reading  with  me 
Emerson's  poem  about  Uriel,  the  seraph  who  sang 
before  God's  throne, — how  even  that  could  not 
please  him,  and  how  he  left  it  to  plunge  into  the 
struggle  of  things  imperfect;  and  how  ever  after 

318 


KING   MIDAS 

the  rest  of  the  seraphim  were  afraid  of  Uriel?  Do 
you  think,  dearest,  that  this  life  of  love  and  labor 
that  you  and  I  live  our  Own  selves  needs  anything 
else  to  justify  it?  The  life  that  I  lived  all  alone 
was  much  harder  and  more  full  of  pain  than  this, 
but  I  never  thought  that  it  needed  any  rewarding." 

David  stopped  and  stood  gazing  ahead  of  him 
thoughtfully;  when  he  continued  his  voice  was 
lower  and  more  solemn.  ''These  things  are  almost 
too  sacred  to  talk  of,  Helen,"  he  said;  "but  there 
is  one  doubt  that  I  have  known  about  this,  one 
thing  that  has  made  me  wonder  if  there  ought  not  to 
be  another  world  after  all.  I  never  sympathized 
with  any  man's  longing  for  heaven,  but  I  can  under 
stand  how7  a  man  might  be  haunted  by  some  fear 
ful  baseness  of  his  own  self, — something  which  long 
years  of  effort  had  taught  him  he  could  not  ever 
expiate  by  the  strength  of  his  own  heart, — and 
howr  he  could  pray  that  there  might  be  some  place 
where  Tightness  might  be  won  at  last,  cost  what  it 
would." 

The  man's  tone  had  been  so  strange  as  he  spoke 
that  it  caused  Helen  to  start;  suddenly  she  came 
closer  to  him  and  put  her  hands  upon  his  shoulders 
and  gazed  into  his  eyes.  "David,"  she  whispered, 
"listen  to  me  a  moment." 

"Yes,  dear,"  he  said,  "what  is  it?" 

"Was  it  because  of  yourself  that  you  said  those 
words?" 

He  was  silent  for  a  moment,  gazing  into  her 
anxious  eyes;  then  he  bowed  his  head  and  said  in  a 
faint  voice,  "Yes,  dear,  it  was  because  of  myself." 

And  the  girl,  becoming  suddenly  very  serious, 

3i9 


KING  MIDAS 

went  on,  "Do  you  remember,  David,  a  long  time 
ago — the  time  that  I  was  leaving  Aunt  Polly's — 
that  you  told  me  how  you  knew  what  it  was  to 
have  something  very  terrible  on  one's  conscience?  I 
have  not  ever  said  anything  about  that,  but  I  have 
never  forgotten  it.  Was  it  that  that  you  thought 
of  then?" 

"Yes,  dear,  it  was  that,"  answered  the  other, 
trembling  slightly. 

Helen  stooped  down  upon  her  knees  and  put  her 
arms  about  him,  gazing  up  pleadingly  into  his  face. 
"Dearest  David,"  she  whispered,  "is  it  right  to 
refuse  to  tell  me  about  that  sorrow?" 

There  was  a  long  silence,  after  which  the  man 
replied  slowly,  "I  have  not  ever  refused  to  tell  you, 
sweetheart;  it  would  be  very  fearful  to  tell,  but  I 
have  not  any  secrets  from  you;  and  if  you  wished 
it,  you  should  know.  But,  dear,  it  was  long,  long 
ago,  and  nothing  can  ever  change  it  now.  It  would 
only  make  us  sad  to  know  it,  so  why  should  we 
talk  of  it?" 

He  stopped,  and  Helen  gazed  long  and  earnestly 
into  his  face.  "David,"  she  said,  "it  is  not  possible 
for  me  to  imagine  you  ever  doing  anything  wrong, 
you  are  so  good." 

"Perhaps,"  said  David,  "it  is  because  you  are 
so  good  yourself."  But  Helen  interrupted  him  at 
that  with  a  quick  rejoinder:  "Do  you  forget  that  I 
too  have  a  sorrow  upon  my  conscience?"  After 
wards,  as  she  saw  that  the  eager  remark  caused  the 
other  to  smile  in  spite  of  himself,  she  checked  him 
gravely  with  the  words,  "Have  you  really  forgotten 
so  soon?  Do  you  suppose  I  do  not  ever  think  no\v 

320 


KING  MIDAS 

of  how  I  treated  poor  Arthur,  and  how  I  drove 
;i\\ay  from  me  the  best  friend  of  mj  girlhood? 
He  wrote  me  that  he  would  think  of  me  no  more, 
but,  David,  sometimes  I  wonder  if  it  were  not  just 
an  angry  boast,  and  if  he  might  not  yet  be  lonely 
and  wretched,  somewhere  in  this  great  cold  world 
where  I  cannot  ever  find  him  or  help  him." 

The  girl  paused;  David  was  regarding  her  ear 
nestly,  and  for  a  long  time  neither  of  them  spoke. 
Then  suddenly  the  man  bent  down,  and  pressed  a 
kiss  upon  her  forehead.  ''Let  us  only  love  each 
other,  dear,"  he  whispered,  "and  try  to  keep  as 
right  as  we  can  w7hile  the  time  is  given  us." 

There  was  a  long  silence  after  that  while  the  two 
sat  gazing  out  across  the  blue  lake;  when  Helen 
spoke  again  it  was  to  say,  "Some  day  you  must  tell 
me  all  about  it,  David,  because  I  can  help  you;  but 
let  us  not  talk  about  these  dreadful  things  now." 
She  stopped  again,  and  afterwards  went  on  thought 
fully,  "I  was  thinking  still  of  what  you  said  about 
immortality,  and  how  very  strange  it  is  to  think 
of  ceasing  to  be.  Might  it  not  be,  David,  that 
heaven  is  a  place  not  of  reward,  but  of  the  same 
ceaseless  effort  as  you  spoke  of?" 

"Ah,  yes,"  said  the  other,  "that  is  the  thought 
of  'the  wages  of  going  on.'  And  of  course,  dear, 
we  would  all  like  those  wages;  there  is  no  thought 
that  tempts  me  so  much  as  the  possibility  of  being 
able  to  continue  the  great  race  forever;  but  I  don't 
see  how  we  have  the  least  right  to  demand  it,  or 
that  the  facts  give  us  the  least  reason  to  suppose 
that  we  will  get  it.  It  seems  to  me  simply  a  fan- 
tastio  and  arbitrary  fancy;  the  re-creating  of  a  worn- 
21  321 


KING  MIDAS 

out  life  in  that  way.  I  do  not  think,  dearest,  that 
I  am  in  the  least  justified  in  claiming  an  eternity  of 
vision  because  God  gives  me  an  hour;  and  when  I 
ask  Him  the  question  in  my  own  heart  I  learn 
simply  that  I  am  a  wretched,  sodden  creature  that 
I  do  not  crowd  that  hour  with  all  infinity  and  go 
quite  mad  at  the  sight  of  the  beauty  that  He  flings 
wide  before  me." 

Helen  did  not  reply  for  a  while,  and  then  she 
asked:  "And  you  think,  David,  that  our  life  justi 
fies  itself  no  matter  how  much  suffering  may  be  in 
it?" 

"I  think,  dearest,"  was  his  reply,  "that  the  soul's 
life  is  struggle,  and  that  the  soul's  life  is  sacred; 
and  that  to  be  right,  to  struggle  to  be  right,  is  not 
only  life's  purpose,  but  also  life's  reward;  and  that 
each  instant  of  such  righteousness  is  its  own  war 
rant,  tho  the  man  be  swept  out  of  existence  in  the 
next."  Then  David  stopped,  and  when  he  went  on 
it  was  in  a  lower  voice.  "Dear  Helen,"  he  said, 
"after  I  have  told  you  what  I  feel  I  deserve  in  life, 
you  can  understand  my  not  washing  to  talk  lightly 
about  such  things  as  suffering.  Just  now,  as  I  sit 
here  at  my  ease,  and  in  fact  all  through  my  poor 
life,  I  have  felt  about  such  sacred  words  as  duty 
and  righteousness  that  it  would  be  just  as  well  if 
they  did  not  ever  pass  my  lips.  But  there  have 
come  to  me  one  or  two  times,  dear,  when  I  dared  a 
little  of  the  labor  of  things,  and  drank  a  drop  or 
two  of  the  wine  of  the  spirit;  and  those  times  have 
lived  to  haunt  me  and  make  me  at  least  not  a  happy 
man  in  my  unearned  ease.  There  come  to  me  still 
just  once  in  a  while  hours  when  I  get  sight  of  the 

322 


KING  MIDAS 

gleam,  hours  that  make  me  loathe  all  that  in  my 
hours  of  comfort  I  loved ;  and  there  comes  over  me 
then  a  kind  of  Titanic  rage,  that  I  should  go  down 
a  beaten  soul  because  I  have  not  the  iron  strength 
of  will  to  lash  my  own  self  to  life,  and  tear  out  of 
my  own  heart  a  little  of  what  power  is  in  it.  At 
such  times,  Helen,  I  find  just  this  one  wish  in  my 
mird, — that  God  would  send  to  me,  cost  what  it 
might,  some  of  the  fearful  experience  that  rouses 
a  man's  soul  within  him,  and  makes  him  live  his  life 
in  spite  of  all  his  dullness  and  his  fear." 

David  had  not  finished,  but  he  halted,  because  he 
saw  a  strange  look  upon  the  girl's  face.  She  did 
not  answer  him  at  once,  but  sat  gazing  at  him ;  and 
then  she  said  in  a  very  grave  voice,  "David,  I  do  not 
like  to  hear  such  words  as  that  from  you." 

"What  words,  dearest?" 

"Do  you  mean  actually  that  it  sometimes  seems 
to  you  wrong  to  live  happily  with  me  as  you  have?" 

David  laid  his  hand  quietly  upon  hers,  watching 
for  a  minute  her  anxious  countenance.  Then  he 
said  in  a  low  voice:  "You  ought  not  to  ask  me 
about  such  things,  dear,  or  blame  me  for  them. 
Sometimes  I  have  to  face  the  very  cruel  thought 
that  I  ought  not  ever  to  have  linked  my  fate  to  one 
so  sweet  and  gentle  as  you,  because  what  I  ought  to 
be  doing  in  the  world  to  win  a  right  conscience  is 
something  so  hard  and  so  stern  that  it  would  mean 
that  I  could  never  be  really  happy  all  my  life." 

David  was  about  to  go  on,  but  he  stopped  again 
because  of  Helen's  look  of  displeasure.  "David," 
she  whispered,  "that  is  the  most  unloving  thing 
that  I  have  ever  heard  from  you !" 

323 


KING  MIDAS 

"And  you  must  blame  me,  dear,  because  of  it?" 
he  asked. 

"I  suppose,"  Helen  answered,  "that  you  would 
misunderstand  me  as  long  as  I  chose  to  let  you.  Do 
you  not  suppose  that  I  too  have  a  conscience, — do 
you  suppose  that  I  want  any  happiness  it  is  wrong 
for  us  to  take,  or  that  I  would  not  dare  to  go  any 
where  that  your  duty  took  you?  And  do  you  sup 
pose  that  anything  could  be  so  painful  to  me  as 
to  know  that  you  do  not  trust  me,  that  you  are 
afraid  to  live  your  life,  and  do  what  is  your  duty, 
before  me?" 

David  bent  down  suddenly  and  pressed  a  kiss 
upon  the  girl's  forehead.  "Precious  little  heart," 
he  whispered,  "those  words  are  very  beautiful." 

"I  did  not  say  them  because  they  were  beautiful," 
answered  Helen  gravely;  "I  said  them  because  I 
meant  them,  and  because  I  wanted  you  to  take 
them  in  earnest.  I  want  to  know  what  it  is  that 
you  and  I  ought  to  be  doing,  instead  of  enjoying 
our  lives;  and  after  you  have  told  me  what  it  is 
I  can  tell  you  one  thing — that  I  shall  not  be  happy 
again  in  my  life  until  it  is  done." 

David  watched  her  thoughtfully  a  while  before  he 
answered,  because  he  saw  that  she  was  very  much 
in  earnest.  Then  he  said  sadly,  "Dearest  Helen, 
perhaps  the  reason  that  I  have  never  been  able  all 
through  my  life  to  satisfy  my  soul  is  the  pitiful  fact 
that  I  have  not  the  strength  to  dare  any  of  the  work 
of  other  men ;  I  have  had  always  to  chafe  under  the 
fact  that  I  must  choose  between  nourishing  my 
poor  body,  or  ceasing  to  live.  I  have  learned  that 
all  my  power — and  more  too,  as  it  sometimes 

324 


KING  MIDAS 

seemed, — was  needed  to  bear  bravely  the  dreadful 
trials  that  God  has  sent  to  me." 

Helen  paled  slightly;  she  felt  his  hand  trembling 
upon  hers,  and  she  remembered  his  illness  at  her 
aunt's,  about  which  she  had  never  had  the  courage 
to  speak  to  him.  "And  so,  dear  heart,"  he  went  on 
slowly,  "let  us  only  be  sure  that  we  are  keeping 
our  lives  pure  and  strong,  that  we  are  living  in  the 
presence  of  high  thoughts  and  keeping  the  mastery 
of  ourselves,  and  saying  and  really  meaning  that 
we  live  for  something  unselfish;  so  that  if  duty  and 
danger  come,  we  shall  not  prove  cowards,  and  if 
suffering  comes  we  should  not  give  way  and  lose 
our  faith.  Does  that  please  you,  dear  Helen?" 

The  girl  pressed  his  hand  silently  in  hers.  After 
a  while  he  went  on  still  more  solemnly:  "Some 
time,"  he  said,  "I  meant  to  talk  to  you  about  just 
that,  dearest,  to  tell  you  how  stern  and  how  watch 
ful  we  ought  to  be.  It  is  very  sad  to  me  to  see  what 
happens  when  the  great  and  fearful  realities  of  life 
disclose  themselves  to  good  and  kind  people  who 
have  been  living  without  any  thought  of  such 
things.  I  feel  that  it  is  very  wrong  to  live  so,  that 
if  we  wished  to  be  right  we  would  hold  the  high 
truths  before  us,  no  matter  how  much  labor  it 
cost." 

"What  truths  do1  you  mean?"  asked  Helen 
earnestly;  and  he  answered  her:  "For  one,  the  very 
fearful  fact  of  which  I  have  just  been  talking — 
that  you  and  I  are  two  bubbles  that  meet  for  an 
instant  upon  the  whirling  stream  of  time.  Sup 
pose,  sweetheart,  that  I  were  to  tell  you  that  I  do 
not  think  you  and  I  would  be  living  our  lives  truly, 

325 


KING  MIDAS 

until  we  were  quite  sure  that  we  could  bear  to  be 
parted  forever  without  losing  our  faith  in  God's 
righteousness?" 

Helen  turned  quite  white,  and  clutched  the 
other's  hands  in  hers;  she  had  not  once  thought  of 
actually  applying  what  he  had  said  to  her.  "David! 
David!"  she  cried,  "No!" 

The  man  smiled  gently  as  he  brushed  back  the 
hair  from  her  forehead  and  gazed  into  her  eyes. 
"And  when  you  asked  for  sternness,  dear,"  he  said, 
"was  it  that  you  did  not  know  what  the  word 
meant?  Life  is  real,  dear  Helen,  and  the  effort  it 
demands  is  real  effort." 

The  girl  did  not  half  hear  these  last  words;  she 
was  still  staring  at  her  husband.  "Listen  to  me, 
David,"  she  said  at  last,  still  holding  his  hand 
tightly  in  hers,  her  voice  almost  a  whisper;  "I  could 
bear  anything  for  you,  David,  I  know  that  I  could 
bear  anything;  I  could  really  die  for  you,  I  say  that 
with  all  my  soul, — that  was  what  I  was  thinking 
of  when  you  spoke  of  death.  But  David,  if  you 
were  to  be  taken  from  me, — if  you  were  to  be  taken 

from  me "  and  she  stopped,  unable  to  find  a 

word  more. 

"Perhaps  it  will  be  just  as  well  not  to  tell  me, 
dear  heart,"  he  said  to  her,  gently. 

"David,"  she  went  on  more  strenuously  yet, 
''listen  to  me — you  must  not  ever  ask  me  to  think  of 
that!  Do  you  hear  me?  For,  oh,  it  cannot  be  true, 
it  cannot  be  true,  David,  that  you  could  be  taken 
from  me  forever!  What  would  I  have  left  to  live 
for?" 

"Would  you  not  have  the  great  wonderful  God?" 

326 


KING  MIDAS 

asked  the  other  gently — "the  God  who  made  me  and 
all  that  was  lovable  in  me,  and  made  you,  and 
would  demand  that  you  worship  him?"  But  Helen 
only  shook  her  head  once  more  and  answered,  "It 
could  not  be  true,  David, — no,  no!"  Then  she 
added  in  a  faint  voice,  "What  would  be  the  use  of 
my  having  lived?" 

The  man  bent  forward  and  kissed  her  again,  and 
kissed  away  a  little  of  the  frightened,  anxious  look 
upon  her  face.  "My  dear,"  he  said  with  a  gentle 
smile,  "perhaps  .1  was  wrong  to  trouble  you  with 
such  fearful  things  after  all.  Let  me  tell  you  in 
stead  a  thought  that  once  came  to  my  mind,  and 
that  has  stayed  there  as  the  one  I  should  like  to 
call  the.  most  beautiful  of  all  my  life;  it  may  help 
to  answer  that  question  of  yours  about  the  use  of 
having  lived.  Men  love  life  so  much,  Helen  dear, 
that  they  cannot  ever  have  enough  of  it,  and  to 
keep  it  and  build  it  up  they  make  what  we  call  the 
arts;  this  thought  of  mine  is  about  one  of  them, 
about  music,  the  art  that  you  and  I  love  most.  For 
all  the  others  have  been  derived  from  things  ex 
ternal,  but  music  was  made  out  of  nothing,  and 
exists  but  for  its  one  great  purpose,  and  there 
fore  is  the  most  spiritual  of  all  of  them.  I  like  to 
say  that  it  is  time  made  beautiful,  and  so  a  shadow 
picture  of  the  soul;  it  is  this,  because  it  can  picture 
different  degrees  of  speed  and  of  power,  because  it 
can  breathe  and  throb,  can  sweep  and  soar,  can 
yearn  and  pray, — because,  in  short,  everything  that 
happens  in  the  heart  can  happen  in  music,  so  that 
we  may  lose  ourselves  in  it  and  actually  live  its 
life,  or  so  that  a  great  genius  can  not  merely  tell 

327 


KING  MIDAS 

us  about  himself,  but  can  make  all  the  best  hours 
of  his  soul  actually  a  part  of  our  own.  This  thought 
that  I  said  was  beautiful  came  to  me  from  noticing 
how  perfectly  the  art  was  one  with  that  which  it 
represented;  so  that  we  may  say  not  only  that 
music  is  life,  but  that  life  is  music.  Music  exists 
because  it  is  beautiful,  dear  Helen,  and  because  it 
brings  an  instant  of  the  joy  of  beauty  to  our  hearts, 
and  for  no  other  reason  whatever;  it  may  be  music 
of  happiness  or  of  sorrow,  of  achievement  or  only 
of  hope,  but  so  long  as  it  is  beautiful  it  is  right, 
and  it  makes  no  difference,  either,  that  it  cost 
much  labor  of  men,  or  that  when  it  is  gone  it  is 
gone  forever.  And  dearest,  suppose  that  the  music 
not  only  was  beautiful,  but  knew  that  it  was  beau 
tiful;  that  it  was  not  only  the  motion  of  the  air,  but 
also  the  joy  of  our  hearts;  might  it  not  then  be  its 
own  excuse,  just  one  strain  of  it  that  rose  in  the  dark 
ness,  and  quivered  and  died  away  again  forever?" 
When  David  had  spoken  thus  he  stopped  and  sat 
still  for  a  while,  gazing  at  his  wife;  then  seeing  the 
anxious  look  still  in  possession  of  her  face,  he  rose 
suddenly  by  way  of  ending  their  talk.  "Dearest," 
he  said,  smiling,  "it  is  wrong  of  me,  perhaps,  to 
worry  you  about  such  very  fearful  things  as  those; 
let  us  go  in,  and  find  something  to  do  that  is  useful, 
and  not  trouble  ourselves  with  them  any  more." 


328 


CHAPTER  II 

"O  Freude,  habe  Acht! 

Sprich  leise, 
Dass  nicht  der  Schmerz  erwacht!" 

IT  was  late  on  the  afternoon  of  the  day  that 
Helen's  father  had  left  for  home,  and  David  was 
going  into  the  village  with  some  letters  to  mail. 
Helen  was  not  feeling  very  well  herself  and  could 
not  go,  but  she  insisted  upon  his  going,  for  she 
watched  over  his  exercise  and  other  matters  of 
health  with  scrupulous  care.  She  had  wrapped  him 
up  in  a  heavy  overcoat,  and  was  kneeling  beside  his 
chair  with  her  arms  about  him. 

"Tell  me,  dear,"  she  asked  him,  for  the  third  or 
fourth  time,  "arc  you  sure  this  will  be  enough  to 
keep  you  warm? — for  the  nights  are  so  very  cold, 
you  know;  I  do  not  like  you  to  come  back  alone 
anyway." 

"I  don't  think  you  would  be  much  of  a  protection 
against  danger,"  laughed  David. 

"But  it  will  be  dark  when  you  get  back,  dear." 

"It  will  only  be  about  dusk,"  was  the  reply;  "I 
don't  mind  that." 

Helen  gazed  at  him  wistfully  for  a  minute, and  then 
she  went  on :  "Do  you  not  know  what  is  the  matter 
with  me,  David?  You  frightened  me  to-day,  and  I 
cannot  forget  what  you  said.  Each  time  that  it 

329 


KING  MIDAS 

comes  to  my  mind  it  makes  me  shudder.  Why 
should  you  say  such  fearful  things  to  me?" 

"I  am  very  sorry,"  said  the  other,  gently. 

"You  simply  must  not  talk  to  me  so!"  cried  the 
girl;  "if  you  do  you  will  make  me  so  that  I  cannot 
bear  to  leave  you  for  an  instant.  For  those 
thoughts  make  my  love  for  you  simply  desperate, 
David;  I  cry  out  to  myself  that  I  never  have  loved 
you  enough,  never  told  you  enough!"  And  then  she 
added  pleadingly,  "But  oh,  you  know  that  I  love  you, 
do  you  not,  dear?  Tell  me." 

"Yes,  I  know  it,"  said  the  other  gently,  taking 
her  in  his  arms  and  kissing  her. 

"Come  back  soon,"  Helen  went  on,  "and  I  will  tell 
you  once  more  how  much  I  do;  and  then  we  can 
be  happy  again,  and  I  won't  be  afraid  any  more. 
Please  let  me  be  happy,  won't  you,  David?" 

"Yes,  love,  I  will,"  said  the  man  with  a  smile. 
"I  do  not  think  that  I  was  wise  ever  to  trouble  you." 

Helen  was  silent  for  a  while,  then  as  a  sudden 
thought  occurred  to  her  she  added:  "David,  I  meant 
to  tell  you  something — do  you  know  if  those  horri 
ble  thoughts  keep  haunting  me,  it  is  just  this  that 
they  will  make  me  do;  you  said  that  God  was  very 
good,  and  so  I  was  thinking  that  I  would  show  him 
how  very  much  I  love  you,  how  I  could  really  never 
get  along  without  you,  and  how  I  care  for  nothing 
else  in  the  world.  It  seems  to  me  to  be  such  a  little 
thing,  that  we  should  only  just  want  to  love;  and 
truly,  that  is  all  I  do  want, — I  would  not  mind  any 
thing  else  in  the  world, — I  would  go  away  from  this 
little  house  and  live  in  any  poor  place,  and  do  all 
the  work,  and  never  care  about  anything  else  at 

330 


KING  MIDAS 

all,  if  I  just  might  have  you.  That  is  really  true, 
David,  and  I  wish  that  you  would  know  it,  and  that 
God  would  know  it,  and  not  expect  me  to  think  of 
such  dreadful  things  as  you  talk  of." 

As  David  gazed  into  her  deep,  earnest  eyes  he 
pressed  her  to  him  with  a  sudden  burst  of  emotion. 
"You  have  me  now,  dearest,"  he  whispered,  "and 
oh,  I  shall  trust  the  God  who  gave  me  this  precious 
heart!"  He  kissed  her  once  more  in  fervent  love, 
and  kissed  her  again  and  again  until  the  clouds 
had  left  her  face.  She  leaned  back  and  gazed  at 
him,  and  was  radiant  with  delight  again.  "Oh — oh 
— oh!"  she  cried.  "David,  it  only  makes  me  more 
full  of  wonder  at  the  real  truth!  For  it  is  the 
truth,  David,  it  is  the  truth — that  you  are  all  mine! 
It  is  so  wonderful,  and  it  makes  me  so  happy, — I 
seem  to  lose  myself  more  in  the  thought  every  day!" 

"You  can  never  lose  yourself  too  much,  little  sweet 
heart,"  David  whispered;  "let  us  trust  to  love,  and 
let  it  grow  all  that  it  will.  Helen,  I  never  knew 
what  it  was  to  live  until  I  met  you, — never  knew 
how  life  could  be  so  full  and  rich  and  happy.  And 
never,  never  will  I  be  able  to  tell  you  how  much  I 
love  you,  dearest  soul." 

"Oh,  but  I  believe  you  without  being  told!"  she 
said,  laughing.  "Do  you  know,  I  could  make  my 
self  quite  mad  just  with  saying  over  to  myself  that 
you  love  me  all  that  I  could  ever  wish  you  to  love 
me,  all  that  I  could  imagine  you  loving  me!  Isn't 
that  true,  David?" 

"Yes,  that  is  true,"  the  man  replied. 

"But  you  don't  know  what  a  wonderful  imagina 
tion  I  have,"  laughed  the  girl,  "and  how  hungry 


KING  MIDAS 

for  your  love  I  am."  And  she  clasped  him  to  her 
passionately  and  cried,  "David,  you  can  make  me 
too  happy  to  live  with  that  thought!  I  shall  have 
to  think  about  it  all  the  time  that  you  are  gone, 
and  when  you  come  back  I  shall  be  so  wonderfully 
excited, — oh — oh,  David !" 

Then  she  laughed  eagerly  and  sprang  up.  "You 
must  not  stay  any  longer,"  she  exclaimed,  "because 
it  is  getting  late;  only  hurry  back,  because  I  can 
do  nothing  but  wait  for  you."  And  so  she  led  him 
to  the  door,  and  kissed  him  again,  and  then  watched 
him  as  he  started  up  the  road.  He  turned  and 
looked  at  her,  as  she  leaned  against  the  railing  of 
the  porch,  with  the  glory  of  the  sunset  falling  upon 
her  hair;  she  made  a  radiant  picture,  for  her  cheeks 
were  still  flushed,  and  her  bosom  still  heaving  with 
the  glory  of  the  thought  she  had  promised  to 
keep.  There  was  so  much  of  her  love  in  the  look 
which  she  kept  upon  David  that  it  took  some  reso 
lution  to  go  on,  and  leave  her. 

As  for  Helen,  she  watched  him  until  he  had  quite 
disappeared  in  the  forest,  after  which  she  turned 
and  gazed  across  the  lake  at  the  gold  and  crimson 
mountains.  But  all  the  time  she  was  still  thinking 
the  thought  of  David's  love;  the  wonder  of  it  was 
still  upon  her  face,  and  it  seemed  to  lift  her  form; 
until  at  last  she  stretched  wide  her  arms,  and  leaned 
back  her  head,  and  drank  a  deep  draft  of  the  even 
ing  air,  whispering  aloud,  "Oh,  I  do  not  dare  to  be 
as  happy  as  I  can!"  And  she  clasped  her  arms  upon 
her  bosom  and  laughed  a  wild  laugh  of  joy. 

Later  on,  because  it  was  cold,  she  turned  and 
went  into  the  house,  singing  a  song  to  herself  as 

332 


KING  MIDAS 

she  moved.  As  she  went  to  the  piano  and  sat  down 
she  saw  upon  the  rack  the  little  springtime  song  of 
Grieg's  that  was  the  first  thing  she  had  ever  heard 
upon  David's  violin;  she  played  a  few  bars  of  it  to 
herself,  and  then  she  stopped  and  sat  still,  lost  in 
the  memory  which  it  brought  to  her  mind  of  the 
night  when  she  had  sat  at  the  window  and  listened 
to  it,  just  after  seeing  Arthur  for  the  last  time. 
"And  to  think  that  it  was  only  four  or  five  months 
ago!"  she  whispered  to  herself.  "And  how  wretched 
I  was!" 

"I  do  not  believe  I  could  ever  be  so  unhappy 
again,"  she  went  on  after  a  while,  "I  know  that  I 
could  not,  while  I  have  David!"  after  which  her 
thoughts  came  back  into  the  old,  old  course  of 
joy.  When  she  looked  at  the  music  again  the  mem 
ory  of  her  grief  was  gone,  and  she  read  in  it  all  of 
her  own  love-glory.  She  played  it  through  again, 
and  afterwards  sat  quite  still,  until  the  twilight  had 
begun  to  gather  in  the  room. 

Helen  then  rose  and  lit  the  lamp,  and  the  fire  in 
the  open  fire-place;  she  glanced  at  the  clock  and 
saw  that  more  than  a  quarter  of  an  hour  had 
passed,  and  she  said  to  herself  that  it  could  not  be 
more  than  that  time  again  before  David  was  back. 

"I  should  go  out  and  meet  him  if  I  were  feeling 
quite  strong,"  she  added  as.  she  went  to  the  door 
and  looked  out;  then  she  exclaimed  suddenly:  "But 
oh,  I  know  how  I  can  please  him  better!"  And  the 
girl  went  to  the  table  where  some  of  her  books  W«MV 
lying,  and  sat  down  and  began  very  diligently  study 
ing,  glancing  every  half  minute  at  the  clock  and  at 
the  door.  "I  shall  be  too  busy  even  to  hear  him!" 

333 


KING  MIDAS 

she  said,  with  a  sudden  burst  of  glee;  and  quite  de 
lighted  with  the  effect  that  would  produce  she 
listened  eagerly  every  time  she  fancied  she  heard  a 
step,  and  then  fixed  her  eyes  upon  the  book,  and 
put  on  a  look  of  most  complete  absorption. 

Unfortunately  for  Helen's  plan,  however,  each 
time  it  proved  to  be  a  false  alarm;  and  so  the  fifteen 
minutes  passed  completely,  and  then  five,  and  five 
again.  The  girl  had  quite  given  up  studying  by  that 
time,  and  was  gazing  at  the  clock,  and  listening  to 
its  ticking,  and  wondering  very  much  indeed.  At 
last  when  more  than  three-quarters  of  an  hour  had 
passed  since  David  had  left,  she  got  up  and  went 
to  the  door  once  more  to  listen;  as  she  did  not  hear 
anything  she  went  out  on  the  piazza,  and  finally  to 
the  road.  All  about  her  was  veiled  in  shadow, 
which  her  eyes  strove,  in  vain  to  pierce;  and  so 
growing  still  more  impatient  she  raised  her  voice 
and  called,  "David,  David!"  and  then  stood  and 
listened  to  the  rustling  of  the  leaves  and  the  faint 
lapping  of  the  water  on  the  shore. 

"That  is  very  strange,"  Helen  thought,  growing 
very  anxious  indeed;  "it  is  fearfully  strange!  What 
in  the  world  can  have  happened?"  And  she  called 
again,  with  no  more  result  that  before;  until  with 
a  sudden  resolution  she  turned  and  passed  quickly 
into  the  house,  and  flinging  a  wrap  about  ner,  came 
out  and  started  down  the  road.  Occasionally  she 
raised  her  voice  and  shouted  David's  name,  but 
still  she,  got  no  reply,  and  her  anxiety  soon  changed 
into  alarm,  and  she  was  hurrying  along,  almost  in 
a  run.  In  this  way  she  climbed  the  long  ascent 
which  the  road  made  from  the  lake  shore;  and  when 

334 


KING  MIDAS 

she  had  reached  the  top  of  it  she  gathered  her 
breath  and  shouted  once  more,  louder  and  more  ex 
citedly  than  ever. 

This  time  she  heard  the  expected  reply,  and  found 
that  David  was  only  a  few  rods  ahead  of  her.  "What 
is  the  matter?"  she  called  to  him,  and  as  he  answered 
that  it  was  nothing,  but  to  come  to  him,  she  ran  on 
more  alarmed  than  ever. 

There  was  just  light  enough  for  her  to  see  that 
David  was  bending  down ;  ind  then  as  she  got  very 
near  she  saw  that  on  the  ground  in  front  of  him 
was  lying  a  dark,  shadowy  form.  As  Helen  cried 
out  again  to  know  what  was  the  matter,  her  hus 
band  said,  "Do  not  be  frightened,  dear;  it  is  only 
some  poor  woman  that  I  have  found  here  by  the 
roadside." 

"A  woman!"  the  girl  echoed  in  wonder,  at  the 
same  time  giving  a  gasp  of  relief  at  the  discovery 
that  her  husband  was  not  in  trouble.  ''Where  in 
the  world  can  she  have  come  from,  David?" 

"I  do  not  know,"  he  answered,  "but  she  probably 
wandered  off  the  main  road.  It  is  some  poor, 
wretched  creature,  Helen;  she  has  been  drinking, 
and  is  quite  helpless." 

And  Helen  stood  still  in  horror,  while  David 
arose  and  came  to  her.  "You  are  out  of  breath, 
dear,"  he  exclaimed,  "why  did  you  come  so  fast?" 

''Oh,  I  was  so  frightened!"  the  girl  panted.  "I 
cannot  tell  you,  David,  what  happens  in  my  heart 
whenever  I  think  of  your  coming  to  any  harm.  It 
was  dreadful,  for  I  knew  something  serious  must 
be  the  matter." 

David  put  his  arm  about  her  and  kissed  her  to 

335 


KING  MIDAS 

quiet  her  fears;  then  he  said,  "You  ought  not  to 
have  come  out,  dear;  but  be  calm  now,  for  there  is 
nothing  to  worry  you,  only  we  must  take  care  of 
this  poor  woman.  It  is  such  a  sad  sight,  Helen;  I 
wish  that  you  had  not  come  here." 

"What  were  you  going  to  do?"  asked  the  girl, 
forgetting  herself  quickly  in  her  sympathy. 

"I  meant  to  come  down  and  tell  you,"  was  David's 
reply;  "and  then  go  back  to  town  and  get  someone 
to  come  and  take  her  away." 

"But,  David,  you  can  never  get  back  over  that 
i*ough  road  in  the  darkness!"  exclaimed  Helen  in 
alarm;  "it  is  too  far  for  you  to  walk,  even  in  the 
daytime — I  will  not  let  you  do  it,  you  must  not!" 

"But  dear,  this  poor  creature  cannot  be  left  here; 
it  will  be  a  bitter  cold  night,  and  she  might  die." 

Helen  was  silent  for  a  moment  in  thought,  and 
then  she  said  in  a  low,  trembling  voice:  "David, 
there  is  only  one  thing  to  do." 

"What  is  that,  dear?"  asked  the  other. 

"W^e  will  have  to  take  her  home  with  us." 

"Do  you  know  what  you  are  saying?"  asked  the 
other  with  a  start;  "that  would  be  a  fearful  thing 
to  do,  Helen." 

"I  cannot  help  it,"  she  replied,  "it  is  the  only 
thing.  And  it  would  be  wicked  not  to  be  willing 
to  do  that,  because  she  is  a  woman." 

"She  is  in  a  fearful  way,  dear,"  said  the  other, 
hesitatingly;  "and  to  ask  you  to  take  care  of 
her— 

"I  would  do  anything  sooner  than  let  you  take 
that  walk  in  such  darkness  as  this!"  was  the  girl's 

336 


MIDAS 

<luiet  ll  id,  "You  ought  not  to 

hav«.  »M-  calm  now,  for  thei 

m)tl  '>nly  we  must  take  care  of 

•h  a  sad  sight,  Helen;  I 

do?"  asked  the  girl, 

upathy. 

J  tell  yon,"  was  David's 
"ineone 

hat 
POOF  <'i  ,»t  be  lef 


^ 


" 


ornent  in  thought,  and 
trembling  voice:     uDavid, 
•lo." 

!  the  other. 
home  with  us. 

asked  the 

arful  thing 
to  do, 

"*   '  the  only 

thing.     And 

to  do  ti 

"She  is  in  ot  her, 

hesitatingly  of 
her  -  " 

[  would  do  a  >a  ^a^e 

that  walk  in  such  darki;  ,,e  girl's 

336 


KING  MIDAS 

reply;  and  with  that  statement  she  silenced  all  of 
his  objections. 

And  so  at  last  David  pressed  her  hand,  and  whis 
pered,  "Very  well,  dear,  God  will  bless  you  for  it." 
Then  for  a  while  the  two  stood  in  silence,  until 
Helen  asked,  "Do  you  think  that  we  can  carry  her, 
poor  creature?" 

"We  may  try  it,"  the  other  replied;  and  Helen 
went  and  knelt  by  the  prostrate  figure.  The  woman 
was  muttering  to  herself,  but  she  seemed  to  be 
quite  dazed,  and  not  to  know  what  was  going  on 
about  her.  Helen  did  not  hesitate  any  longer,  but 
bent  over  and  strove  to  lift  her;  the  woman  was 
fortunately  of  a  slight  build,  and  seemed  to  be  very 
thin,  so  that  with  David's  help  it  was  easy  to  raise 
her  to  her  feet.  It  was  a  fearful  task  none  the  less, 
for  the  poor  wretch  was  foul  with  the  mud  in  which 
she  had  been  lying,  and  her  wet  hair  was  streaming 
over  her  shoulders;  as  Helen  strove  to  lift  her  up 
the  head  sunk  over  upon  her,  but  the  girl  bit  her 
lips  together  grimly.  She  put  her  arm  about  the 
woman's  waist,  and  David  did  the  same  on  the  other 
side,  and  so  the  three  started,  stumbling  slowly 
along  in  the  darkness. 

"Are  you  sure  that  it  is  not  too  much  for  you?" 
David  asked;  "we  can  stop  whenever  you  like, 
Helen." 

"No,  let  us  go  on,"  the  girl  said;  "she  has  almost 
no  weight,  and  we  must  not  leave  her  out  here  in 
the  cold.  Her  hands  are  almost  frozen  now." 

They  soon  made  their  way  on  down  to  where  the 
lights  of  the  little  cottage  shone  through  the  trees. 
David  could  not  but  shrink  back  as  he  thought  of 

22  337 


KING  MIDAS 

taking  their  wretched  burden  into  their  little  home, 
but  he  heard  the  woman  groan  feebly,  and  he  was 
ashamed  of  his  thought.  Nothing  more  was  said 
until  they  had  climbed  the  steps,  not  without  diffi 
culty,  and  had  deposited  their  burden  upon  the  floor 
of  the  sitting  room;  after  which  David  rose  and 
sank  back  into  a  chair,  for  the  strain  had  been  a 
heavy  one  for  him. 

Helen  also  sprang  up  as  she  gazed  at  the  figure; 
the  woman  was  foul  with  every  misery  that  disease 
and  sin  can  bring  upon  a  human  creature,  her  cloth 
ing  torn  to  shreds  and  her  face  swollen  and  stained. 
She  was  half  delirious,  and  clawing  about  her  with 
her  shrunken,  quivering  hands,  so  that  Helen  ex 
claimed  in  horror:  "Oh  God,  that  is  the  most 
dreadful  sight  I  have  ever  seen  in  my  life!" 

"Come  away,"  said  the  other,  raising  himself 
from  the  chair;  "it  is  not  right  that  you  should  look 
at  such  things." 

But  with  Helen  it  was  only  a  moment  before  her 
pity  had  overcome  every  other  emotion;  she  knelt 
down  by  the  stranger  and  took  one  of  the  cold 
hands  and  began  chafing  it.  "Poor,  poor  woman!" 
she  exclaimed;  aoh,  what  misery  you  must  have 
suffered!  David,  what  can  a  woman  do  to  be  pun 
ished  like  this?  It  is  fearful!" 

It  was  a  strange  picture  which  the  two  made  at 
that  moment,  the  woman  in  her  cruel  misery,  and 
the  girl  in  her  pure  and  noble  beauty.  But  Helen 
had  no  more  thought  of  shrinking,  for  all  her  soul 
had  gone  out  to  the  unfortunate  stranger,  and  she 
kept  on  trying  to  bring  her  back  to  consciousness. 
"Oh,  David,"  she  said,  "what  can  we  do  to  help 

338 


KING  MIDAS 

her?  It  is  too  much  that  any  human  being  should 
be  like  this,— she  would  have  died  if  we  had  not 
found  her."  And  then  as  tin-  other  opened  her  eyes 
and  struggled  to  lift  herself,  Helen  caught  an  inco 
herent  word  and  said,  "I  think  she  is  thirsty,  David; 
get  some  water  and  perhaps  that  will  help  her.  We 
must  find  some  way  to  comfort  her,  for  this  is  too 
horrible  to  be.  And  perhaps  it  is  not  her  fault,  you 
know, — who  knows  but  perhaps  some  man  may  have 
been  the  cause  of  it  all?  Is  it  not  dreadful  to  think 
of,  David?" 

So  the  girl  went  on;  her  back  was  turned  to  her 
husband,  and  she  was  engrossed  in  her  task  of 
mercy,  and  did  not  see  what  he  was  doing.  She  did 
not  see  that  he  had  started  forward  in  his  chair  and 
was  staring  at  the  woman;  she  did  not  see  him  lean 
ing  forward,  farther  and  farther,  with  a  strange 
look  upon  his  face.  But  there  was  something  she 
did  see  at  last,  as  the  woman  lifted  herself  again 
and  stared  first  at  Helen's  own  pitying  face,  and 
then  vaguely  about  the  room,  and  last  of  all  gazing 
at  David.  Suddenly  she  stretched  out  her  arms  to 
him  and  strove  to  rise,  with  a  wild  cry  that  made 
Helen  leap  back  in  consternation: — "David!  It's 
David!" 

And  at  the  same  instant  David  sprang  up  with 
what  was  almost  a  scream  of  horror;  he  reeled  and 
staggered  backwards  against  the  wall,  clutching 
with  his  hands  at  his  forehead,  his  face  a  ghastly, 
ashen  gray;  and  as  Helen  sprang  up  and  ran  to 
wards  him,  he  sank  down  upon  his  knees  with  n 
moan,  gazing  up  into  the  air  with  a  look  of  agony 

339 


KING  MIDAS 

upon  his  face.  "My  God!  My  God!"  he  gasped; 
"it  is  my  Mary!" 

And  Helen  sank  down  beside  him,  clutching  him 
by  the  arm,  and  staring  at  him  in  terror.  "David, 
David!"  she  whispered,  in  a  hoarse  voice.  But  the 
man  seemed  not  to  hear  her,  so  overwhelmed  was 
he  by  his  own  emotion.  "It  is  Mary,"  he  cried  out 
again, — "it  is  my  Mary! — oh  God,  have  mercy  upon 
my  soul!"  And  then  a  shudder  passed  over  him, 
and  he  buried  his  face  in  his  arms  and  fell  down 
upon  the  floor,  with  Helen,  almost  paralyzed  with 
fright,  still  clinging  to  him. 

In  the  meantime  the  woman  had  still  been 
stretching  out  her  trembling  arms  to  him,  crying 
his  name  again  and  again;  as  she  sank  back  ex 
hausted  the  man  started  up  and  rushed  toward  her, 
clutching  her  by  the  hand,  and  exclaiming  fran 
tically,  "Mary,  Mary,  it  is  I — speak  to  me!"  But 
the  other's  delirium  seemed  to  have  returned,  and 
she  only  stared  at  him  blankly.  At  last  David  stag 
gered  to  his  feet  and  began  pacing  wildly  up  and 
down,  hiding  his  face  in  his  hands,  and  crying  help 
lessly,  "Oh,  God,  that  this  should  come  to  me  now! 
Oh,  how  can  I  bear  it — oh,  Mary,  Mary!" 

He  sank  down  upon  the  sofa  again  and  burst  into 
fearful  sobbing;  Helen,  who  had  still  been  kneeling 
where  he  left  her,  rushed  toward  him  and  flung  her 
arms  about  him,  crying  out,  "David,  David,  what  is 
the  matter?  David,  you  will  kill  me;  what  is  it?" 

And  he  started  and  stared  at  her  wildly,  clutch 
ing  her  arm.  "Helen,"  he  gasped,  "listen  to  me!  I 
ruined  that  woman!  Do  you  hear  me? — do  you  hear 
me?  It  was  I  who  betrayed  her — I  who  made  her 

340 


KING  MIDAS 

what  she  is!    / — //    Oh,  leave  me, — leave  ine  alone 

•oh,  what  can  I  do?" 

Then  as  the  girl  still  clung  to  him,  sobbing  his 
name  in  terror,  the  man  went  on,  half  beside  him 
self  with  his  grief,  "Oh,  think  of  it — oh,  how  can  I 
bear  to  know  it  and  live?  Twenty-three  years  ago, 
— and  it  comes  back  to  curse  me  now!  And  all 
these  years  I  have  been  living  and  forgetting  it— 
and  been  happy,  and  talking  of  my  goodness — oh 
<  lod,  and  this  fearful  madness  upon  the  earth!  And 
I  made  it — I — and  she  has  had  to  pay  for  it!  Oh, 
look  at  her,  Helen,  look  at  her — think  that  that 
foulness  is  mine!  She  was  beautiful, — she  was 
pure, — and  she  might  have  been  happy,  she  would 
have  been  good,  but  for  me!  Oh  God  in  heaven, 
where  can  I  hide  myself,  what  can  I  do?" 

Helen  was  still  clutching  at  his  arm,  crying  to 
him,  "David,  spare  me!"  He  flung  her  otf  in  a  mad 
frenzy,  holding  her  at  arm's  length,  and  staring 
at  her  with  a  fearful  light  in  his  eyes.  "Girl,  girl!" 
he  cried,  "do  you  know  who  I  am — do  you  know 
what  I  have  done?  This  girl  was  like  you  once,  and 
I  made  her  love  me — made  her  love  me  with  the 
sacred  fire  that  God  had  given  me,  made  her  love 
me  as  I  made  you  love  me!  And  she  was  beautiful 
like  you — she  was  younger  than  you,  and  as  happy 
as  you !  And  she  trusted  me  as  you  trusted  me,  she 
gave  herself  to  me  as  you  did,  and  I  took  her,  and 
promised  her  my  love — and  now  look  at  her!  Can 
you  wish  to  be  near  me,  can  you  wish  to  see  me? 
Oh,  Helen,  I  cannot  bear  myself — oh,  leave  me,  I 
must  die!" 

He  sank  down  once  more,  weeping,  all  his  form 

34i 


KING  MIDAS 

shaking  with  his  grief;  Helen  flung  her  arms  about 
his  neck  again,  but  the  man  seemed  to  forget  her 
presence.  "Oh,  think  where  that  woman  has  been," 
he  moaned;  "think  what  she  has  seen,  and  done, 
and  suffered — and  what  she  is!  Was  there  ever 
such  a  wreck  of  womanhood,  ever  such  a  curse  upon 
earth?  And,  oh,  for  the  years  that  she  has  lived  in 
her  fearful  sin,  and  I  have  been  happy — great  God, 
what  can  I  do  for  those  years, — how  can  I  live  and 
gaze  upon  this  crime  of  mine?  I,  who  sought  for 
beauty,  to  have  made  this  madness;  and  it  comes 
now  to  curse  me,  now,  when  it  is  too  late;  when  the 
life  is  wrecked, — when  it  is  gone  forever!" 

David's  voice  had  sunk  into  a  moan;  and  then 
suddenly  he  heard  the  woman  crying  out,  and  he 
staggered  to  his  feet.  She  was  sitting  up  again, 
her  arms  stretched  out;  David  caught  her  in  his 
own,  gazing  into  her  face  and  crying,  "Mary,  Mary! 
Look  at  me!  Here  I  am — I  am  David,  the  David 
you  loved." 

He  stopped,  gasping  for  breath,  and  the  woman 
cried  in  a  faint  voice,  "Water,  water!"  David 
turned  and  called  to  Helen,  and  the  poor  girl,  tho 
scarcely  able  to  stand,  ran  to  get  a  glass  of  it;  an 
other  thought  came  to  the  man  in  the  meantime, 
and  he  turned  to  the  other  with  a  sudden  cry.  "If 
there  were  a  child!"  he  gasped,  "a  child  of  mine 
somewhere  in  the  world,  alone  and  helpless!"  He 
stared  into  the  woman's  eyes  imploringly. 

She  was  gazing  at  him,  choking  and  trying  to 
speak;  she  seemed  to  be  making  an  effort  to  under 
stand  him,  and  as  David  repeated  his  agonizing 
question  she  gave  a  sign  of  assent,  causing  a  still 

342 


KING  MIDAS 

wilder  look  to  cross  the  man's  faro.  He  called  to 
IKT  again  to  tell  him  where;  hut  the  woman  seenn-d 
to  be  sinking  back  into  her  raving,  and  she  only 
gasprd  faintly  again  for  water. 

When  Helen  brought  it  they  poured  it  down  her 
throat,  and  then  David  repeated  his  question  once 
more;  but  he  gave  a  groan  as  he  saw  that  it  was  all 
in  vain;  the  wild  raving  had  begun  again,  and  the 
woman  only  stared  at  him  blankly,  until  at  last 
the  wretched  man,  quite  overcome,  sank  down  at 
her  side  and  buried  his  head  upon  her  shrunken 
bosom  and  cried  like  a  child,  poor  Helen  in  the 
meantime  clinging  to  him  still. 

It  was  only  when  David  had  quite  worn  himself 
out  that  he  seemed  to  hear  her  pleading  voice;  then 
he  looked  at  her,  and  for  the  first  time  through  his 
own  grief  caught  sight  of  hers.  There  was  such 
a  look  of  helpless  woe  upon  Helen's  face  that  he 
put  out  his  hand  to  her  and  whispered  faintly,  "Oh, 
poor  little  girl,  what  have  you  done  that  you  should 
suffer  so?"  As  Helen  drew  closer  to  him,  clinging 
to  his  hand  in  fright,  he  went  on,  "Can  you  ever 
forgive  me  for  this  horror — forgive  me  that  I  dared 
to  forget  it,  that  I  dared  to  marry  you?" 

The  girl's  answer  was  a  faint  moan, ''David,  David, 
have  mercy  on  me!"  He  gazed  at  her  for  a  moment, 
reading  still  more  of  her  suffering. 

"Helen,"  he  asked,  "you  see  what  has  come  upon 
me — can  you  ask  me  not  to  be  wretched,  can  you 
ask  me  still  to  live?  What  can  I  do  for  such  a 
crime, — when  I  look  at  this  wreck  of  a  soul,  what 
comfort  can  I  hope  to  find?"  And  the  girl,  her 
heart  bursting  with  grief,  could  only  clasp  his 

343 


KING  MIDAS 

hands  in  hers  and  gaze  into  his  eyes;  there  was  no 
word  she  could  think  of  to  say  to  him,  and  so  for  a 
long  time  the  two  remained  in  silence,  David  again 
fixing  his  eyes  upon  the  woman,  who  seemed  to  be 
sinking  into  a  kind  of  stupor. 

When  he  looked  up  once  more  it  was  because 
Helen  was  whispering  in  his  ear,  a  new  thought 
having  come  to  her,  "David,  perhaps  /  might  be  able 
to  help  you  yet." 

The  man  replied  in  a  faint,  gasping  voice,  "Help 
me?  How?"  And  the  girl  answered,  "Come  with 
me,""  and  rose  weakly  to  her  feet,  half  lifting  him 
also.  He  gazed  at  the  woman  and  saw  that  she 
was  lying  still,  and  then  he  did  as  Helen  asked. 
She  led  him  gently  into  the  other  room,  away  from 
the  fearful  sight,  and  the  two  sat  down,  David  limp 
and  helpless,  so  that  he  could  only  sink  down  in 
her  arms  with  a  groan.  "Poor,  poor  David,"  she 
whispered,  in  a  voice  of  infinite  pity;  "oh,  my  poor 
David!" 

"Then  you  do  not  scorn  me,  Helen?"  the  man 
asked  in  a  faint,  trembling  voice,  and  went  on 
pleading  with  her,  in  words  so  abject  and  so 
wretched  that  they  wrung  the  girl's  heart  more 
than  ever. 

"David,  how  can  you  speak  to  me  so?"  she  cried, 
"you  who  are  all  my  life?"  And  then  she  added 
with  swift  intensity,  ''Listen  to  me,  David,  it  can 
not  be  so  bad  as  that,  I  know  it!  Will  you  not  tell 
me,  David?  Tell  me  all,  so  that  I  may  help  you!" 
So  she  went  on  pleading  with  him  gently,  until  at 
last  the  man  spoke  again,  in  faltering  words. 

"Helen,"  he  said,  "I  was  only  a  boy;  God  knows 

344 


KING  MIDAS 

that  is  one  excuse,  if  it  is  the  only  one.  I  was  only 
seventeen,  and  she  was  no  more." 

"Who  was  she,  David?"  the  girl  asked. 

"She  lived  in  a  village  across  the  mountains  from 
here,  near  where  our  home  used  to  be.  She  was  a 
farmer's  daughter,  and  she  was  beautiful — oh,  to 
think  that  that  woman  was  once  a  beautiful  girl, 
and  innocent  and  pure!  But  we  were  young,  we 
loved  each  other,  and  we  had  no  one  to  warn  us; 
it  was  so  long  ago  that  it  seems  like  a  dream  to  me 
now,  but  we  sinned,  and  I  took  her  for  mine;  then 
I  went  home  to  tell  my  father,  to  tell  him  that  she 
was  my  wife,  and  that  I  must  marry  her.  And  oh, 
God,  she  was  a  farmer's  daughter,  and  I  was  a  rich 
man's  son,  and  the  cursed  world  knows  nothing  of 
human  souls!  And  I  must  not  marry  her — I  found 
all  the  world  in  arms  against  it " 

"And  you  let  yourself  be  persuaded?"  asked  the 
girl,  in  a  faint  whisper. 

"Persuaded?"  echoed  David,  his  voice  shaking; 
"who  would  have  thought  of  persuading  a  mad  boy? 
I  let  myself  be  commanded  and  frightened  into  sub 
mission,  and  carried  away.  And  then  five  or  six 
miserable  months  passed  away  and  I  got  a  letter 
from  her,  and  she  was  with  child,  and  she  was 
ruined  forever, — she  prayed  to  me  in  words  that 
have  haunted  me  night  and  day  all  my  life,  to  come 
to  her  and  keep  my  promise." 

And  David  stopped  and  gave  a  groan;  the  other 
whispered,  "You  could  not  go?" 

"I  went,"  he  answered;  "I  borrowed  money, 
begged  it  from  one  of  my  father's  servants,  and  ran 

345 


KING  MIDAS 

away  and  went  up  there;  and  oh,  I  was  two  days 
too  late!" 

'Too  late?"  exclaimed  Helen  wonderingly. 

"Yes,  yes,"  was  the  hoarse  reply,  "for  she  was  a 
weak  and  helpless  girl,  and  scorned  of  all  the  world; 
and  her  parents  had  turned  her  away,  and  she  was 
gone,  no  one  knew  where.  Helen,  from  that  day 
to  this  I  have  never  seen  her,  nor  ever  heard  of 
her;  and  now  she  comes  to  curse  me, — to  curse  my 
soul  forever.  And  it  is  more  than  I  can  bear,  more 
than  I  can  bear!" 

David  sank  down  again,  crying  out,  "It  is  too 
much,  it  is  too  much!"  But  then  suddenly  he 
caught  his  wife's  hand  in  his  and  stared  up  at  her, 
exclaiming,  "And  she  said  there  was  a  child,  Helen! 
Somewhere  in  the  world  there  is  another  soul  suf 
fering  for  this  sin  of  mine!  Oh,  somehow  we  must 
find  out  about  that — something  must  be  done,  I 
could  not  have  two  such  fearful  things  to  know  of. 
We  must  find  out,  we  must  find  out!" 

As  the  man  stopped  and  stared  wildly  about  him 
he  heard  the  woman's  voice  again,  and  sprang  up; 
but  Helen,  terrified  at  his  suffering,  caught  him  by 
the  arm,  whispering,  "No,  no,  David,  let  me  go  in, 
I  can  take  care  of  her."  And  she  forced  her  hus 
band  down  on  the  sofa  once  more,  and  then  ran  into 
the  next  room.  She  found  the  woman  again  strug 
gling  to  raise  herself  upon  her  trembling  arms, 
staring  about  her  and  calling  out  incoherently. 
Helen  rushed  to  her  and  took  her  hands  in  hers, 
trying  to  soothe  her  again. 

But  the  woman  staggered  to  her  feet,  oblivious 
of  everything  about  her.  "Where  is  he?  Where  is 

346 


KING  MIDAS 

he?"  she  gasped  hoarsely;  "he  will  come  back!" 
She  began  calling  David's  name,  and  a  moment 
later,  as  Helen  tried  to  keep  her  quiet,  she  tore  her 
hands  loose  and  rushed  blindly  across  the  room, 
shrieking  louder  yet,  "David,  where  are  you?  Don't 
you  know  me,  David?" 

As  Helen  turned  she  saw  that  her  husband  had 
heard  the  cries  and  come  to  the  doorway  again;  but 
it  was  all  in  vain,  for  the  woman,  though  she  looked 
at  him,  knew  him  no  more;  it  was  to  a  phantom 
of  her  own  brain  that  she  was  calling,  in  the  mean 
time  pacing  up  and  down,  her  voice  rising  higher 
and  higher.  She  was  reeling  this  way  and  that,  and 
Helen,  frightened  at  her  violence,  strove  to  re 
strain  her,  only  to  be  flung  off  as  if  she  had  been  a 
child;  the  woman  rushed  on,  groping  about  her 
blindly  and  crying  still,  "David!  Tell  me  where  is 
David*!" 

Then  as  David  and  Helen  stood  watching  her 
in  helpless  misery  her  delirious  mood  changed,  and 
she  clutched  her  hands  over  her  bosom,  and  shud 
dered,  and  moaned  to  herself,  "It  is  cold,  oh,  it  is 
cold!"  Afterwards  she  burst  into  frantic  sobbing, 
that  choked  her  and  shook  all  her  frame;  and  again 
into  wild  peals  of  laughter;  and  then  last  of  all  she 
stopped  and  sprang  back,  staring  in  front  of  her 
with  her  whole  face  a  picture  of  agonizing  fright; 
she  gave  one  wild  scream  after  another  and  stag 
gered  and  sank  down  at  last  upon  the  floor.  "Oh, 
it  is  he,  it  is  he!"  she  cried,  her  voice  sinking  into  a 
shudder;  "oh,  spare  me, — why  should  you  beat  me? 
Oh  God,  have  mercy — have  mercy!"  Her  cries  rose 
again  into  a  shriek  that  made  Helen's  blood  run 

347 


KING  MIDAS 

cold;  she  looked  in  terror  at  her  husband,  and  saw 
that  his  face  was  white;  in  the  meantime  the 
wretched  woman  had  flung  herself  down  prostrate 
upon  the  floor,  where  she  lay  groveling  and  writh 
ing. 

That  again,  however,  was  only  for  a  minute  or 
two;  she  staggered  up  once  more  and  rushed  blindly 
across  the  room,  crying,  "I  cannot  bear  it,  I  cannot 
bear  it!  Oh,  what  have  I  done?"  Then  suddenly 
as  she  flung  up  her  arms  imploringly  and  staggered 
blindly  on,  she  lurched  forward  and  fell,  striking 
her  head  against  the  corner  of  the  table. 

Helen  started  forward  with  a  cry  of  alarm,  but 
before  she  had  taken  half  a  dozen  steps  the  woman 
had  raised  herself  to  her  feet  once  more,  and  was 
staring  at  her,  blinded  by  the  blood  which  poured 
from  a  cut  in  her  forehead.  Her  clothing  was  torn 
half  from  her,  and  her  tangled  hair  streamed  from 
her  shoulders;  she  was  a  ghastly  sight  to  behold,  as, 
delirious  with  terror,  she  began  once  more  rushing 
this  way  and  that  about  the  room.  The  two  who 
watched  her  were  powerless  to  help  her,  and  could 
only  drink  in  the  horror  of  it  all  and  shudder,  as 
with  each  minute  the  poor  creature  became  more 
frantic  and  more  desperate.  All  the  while  it  was 
evident  that  her  strength  was  fast  leaving  her;  she 
staggered  more  and  more,  and  at  last  she  sank 
down  upon  her  knees.  She  strove  to  rise  again  and 
found  that  she  could  not,  but  lurched  and  fell  upon 
the  floor;  as  she  turned  over  and  Helen  saw  her 
face,  the  sight  was  too  much  for  the  girl's  self-con 
trol,  and  she  buried  her  face  in  her  hands  and  broke 
into  frantic  sobbing. 

348 


KING  MIDAS 

David  in  the  meantime  was  crouching  in  the  door 
way,  his  gaze  fixed  upon  the  woman;  he  did  not 
seem  even  to  notice  Helen's  outburst,  so  lost  was  all 
his  soul  in  the  other  sight.  lie  saw  that  the  stran 
ger's  convulsive  efforts  were  weakening,  and  he 
staggered  forward  with  a  cry,  and  flung  himself 
forward  down  on  his  knees  beside  her.  "Mary, 
Mary!"  he  called;  but  she  did  not  heed  him,  tho 
he  clasped  her  hands  and  shook  her,  gazing  into 
her  face  imploringly.  Her  eyes  were  fixed  upon 
him,  but  it  was  with  a  vacant  stare;  and  then  sud 
denly  he  started  back  with  a  cry  of  horror — "Great 
God,  she  is  dying!" 

The  woman  made  a  sudden  fearful  effort  to  lift 
herself,  struggling  and  gasping,  her  face  distorted 
with  fierce  agony;  as  it  failed  she  sank  back,  and 
lay  panting  hard  for  breath;  then  a  shudder  passed 
over  her,  and  while  David  still  stared,  transfixed, 
a  hoarse  rattle  came  from  her  throat,  and  her 
features  became  suddenly  set  in  their  dreadful 
passion.  In  a  moment  more  all  was  still;  and  David 
buried  his  face  in  his  hands  and  sank  down  upon 
the  corpse,  without  even  a  moan. 

Afterwards,  for  a  full  minute  there  was  not  a 
sound  in  the  room;  Helen's  sobbing  had  ceased,  she 
had  looked  up  and  sat  staring  at  the  two  figures, — 
until  at  last,  with  a  sudden  start  of  fright  she 
sprang  up  and  crept  silently  toward  them.  She 
glanced  once  at  the  woman's  body,  and  then  bent 
over  David;  as  she  felt  that  his  heart  was  still  beat 
ing,  she  caught  him  to  her  bosom,  and  knelt  thus  in 
terror,  staring  first  into  his  white  and  tortured 
features,  and  then  at  the  body  on  the  floor. 

349 


KING  MIDAS 

Finally,  however,  she  nerved  herself,  and  tho 
she  was  trembling  and  exhausted,  staggered  to  her 
feet  with  her  burden;  holding  it  tightly  in  her  arms 
she  went  step  by  step,  slowly  and  in  silence  out  of 
the  room.  When  she  had  passed  into  the  next  one 
she  shut  the  door  and,  sinking  down  upon  the  sofa, 
lifted  David's  broken  figure  beside  her  and  locked 
it  in  her  arms  and  was  still.  Thus  she  sat  without 
a  sound  or  a  motion,  her  heart  within  her  torn  with 
fear  and  pain,  all  through  the  long  hours  of  that 
night;  when  the  cold,  white  dawn  came  up,  she  was 
still  pressing  him  to  her  bosom,  sobbing  and  whis 
pering  faintly,  "Oh,  David!  Oh,  my  poor,  poor 
David!'7 


Hast     du    im   Ve  -  nus  burg  ge-weilt, 


e   -    wig    du       ver  dammt ! 


3-5" 


330 


CHAPTER   III 

"Then  said  I,  'Woe  is  me!  For  I  am  undone;  ...  for  mine 
•  •yes  have  seen  the  King,  the  Lord  of  Hosts.'  " 

DAVID'S  servant  drove  out  early  upon  the  follow 
ing  morning  to  tell  him  of  a  strange  woman  who 
had  been  asking  for  him  in  the  village;  they  sent 
the  man  buck  for  a  doctor,  and  it  was  found  that 
the  poor  creature  was  really  dead. 

They  wished  to  take  the  body  away,  but  David 
would  not  have  it;  and  so,  late  in  the  afternoon,  a 
grave  was  dug  by  the  lake-shore  near  the  little 
cottage,  and  what  was  left  of  Mary  was  buried 
there.  David  was  too  exhausted  to  leave  the  house, 
and  Helen  would  not  stir  from  his  side,  so  the  two 
sat  in  silence  until  the  ceremony  was  over,  and  the 
men  had  gone.  The  servant  went  with  them,  be 
cause  the  girl  said  they  wished  to  be  alone;  and 
then  the  house  settled  down  to  its  usual  quietness, — 
a  quietness  that  frightened  Helen  now. 

For  when  she  looked  at  her  husband  her  heart 
scarcely  beat  for  her  terror;  he  was  ghastly  white, 
and  his  lips  were  trembling,  and  though  he  had 
not  shed  a  tear  all  the  day,  there  was  a  look  of 
mournful  despair  on  his  face  that  told  more  fear 
fully  than  any  words  how  utterly  the  soul  within 
him  was  beaten  and  crushed.  All  that  day  he  had 
been  so,  and  as  Helen  remembered  the  man  that 

35i 


KING  MIDAS 

had  been  before  so  strong  and  eager  and  brave,  her 
whole  soul  stood  still  with  awe;  yet  as  before  she 
could  do  nothing  but  cling  to  him,  and  gaze  at 
him  with  bursting  heart. 

But  at  last  when  the  hours  had  passed  and  not 
a  move  had  been  made,  she  asked  him  faintly, 
"David,  is  there  no  hope?  Is  it  to  be  like  this 
always?" 

The  man  raised  his  eyes  and  gazed  at  her  help 
lessly.  "Helen,"  he  said,  his  voice  sounding  hollow 
and  strange,  "what  can  you  ask  of  me?  How  can 
I  bear  to  look  about  me  again,  how  can  I  think  of 
living?  Oh,  that  night  of  horror!  Helen,  it  burns 
my  brain — it  tortures  my  soul — it  will  drive  me 
mad!"  He  buried  his  face  in  his  hands  again, 
shaking  with  emotion.  "Oh,  I  cannot  ever  forget 
it,"  he  whispered  hoarsely;  "it  must  haunt  me, 
haunt  me  until  I  die!  I  must  know  that  after  all 
my  years  of  struggle  it  was  this  that  I  made,  it  is 
this  that  stands  for  my  life — and  it  is  over,  and  gone 
from  me  forever  and  finished!  Oh,  God,  was  there 
ever  such  a  horror  flashed  upon  a  guilty  soul — ever 
such  fiendish  torture  for  a  man  to  bear?  And 
Helen,  there  was  a  child,  too — think  how  that 
thought  must  goad  me — a  child  of  mine,  and  I  can 
not  ever  aid  it — it  must  suffer  for  its  mother's 
shame.  And  think,  if  it  were  a  woman,  Helen — 
this  madness  must  go  on,  and  go  on  forever!  Oh, 
where  am  I  to  hide  me;  and  what  can  I  do?" 

There  came  no  tears,  but  only  a  fearful  sobbing; 
poor  Helen  whispered  frantically,  "David,  it  was 
not  your  fault,  you  could  not  help  it — surely  you 
cannot  be  to  blame  for  all  this." 

352 


KING  MIDAS 

He  did  not  answer  her,  but  after  a  long  silence 
he  went  on  in  a  deep,  low  voice,  "Helen,  she  was  so 
beautiful!  She  has  lived  in  my  thoughts  all  these 
years  as  the  figure  that  I  used  to  see,  so  bright  and 
so  happy;  I  used  to  hear  her  singing  in  church, 
and  the  music  was  a  kind  of  madness  to  me,  be 
cause  I  knew  that  she  loved  me.  And  her  home 
was  a  little  farm-house,  half  buried  in  great  trees, 
and  I  used  to  see  her  there  with  her  flowers.  Now — • 
oh,  think  of  her  now — think  of  her  life  of  shame 
and  agony — think  of  her  turned  away  from  her 
home,  and  from  all  she  loved  in  the  world, — deserted 
and  scorned,  and  helpless — think  of  her  with  child, 
and  of  the  agony  of  her  degradation!  What  must 
she  not  have  suffered  to  be  as  she  was  last  night — 
oh,  are  there  tears  enough  in  the  world  to  pay  for 
such  a  curse,  for  that  twenty  years'  burden  of 
wretchedness  and  sin?  And  she  was  beaten — oh, 
she  was  beaten — Mary,  my  poor,  poor  Mary!  And 
to  die  in  such  horror,  in  drunkenness  and  madness! 
And  now  she  is  gone,  and  it  is  over;  and  oh,  why 
should  I  live,  what  can  I  do?" 

His  voice  dropped  into  a  moan,  and  then  again 
there  was  a  long  silence.  At  last  Helen  whispered, 
in  a  weak,  trembling  voice,  "David,  you  have  still 
love;  can  that  be  nothing  to  you?" 

"I  have  no  right  to  love,"  he  groaned,  "no  right 
to  love,  and  I  never  had  any.  For  oh,  all  my  life 
this  vision  has  haunted  me — I  knew  that  nothing 
but  death  could  have  saved  her  from  shame!  Yes, 
and  I  knew,  too,  that  some  day  I  must  find  her.  I 
have  carried  the  terror  of  that  in  my  heart  all  these 
years.  Yet  I  dared  to  take  your  love,  and  dared  to 

23  353 


KING  MIDAS 

fly  from  my  sin;  and  then  there  comes  this  thunder 
bolt — oh,  merciful  heaven,  it  is  too  much  to  bear, 
too  much  to  bear!  He  sank  down  again;  poor  Helen 
could  find  no  word  of  comfort,  no  utterance  of  her 
own  bursting  heart  except  the  same  frantic  clasp 
of  her  love. 

So  the  day  went  by  over  that  shattered  life;  and 
each  hour  the  man's  despair  grew  more  black,  his 
grief  and  misery  more  hopeless.  The  girl  watched 
him  and  followed  him  about  as  if  she  had  been  a 
child,  but  she  could  get  him  to  take  no  food,  and 
to  divert  his  mind  to  anything  else  she  dared  not 
even  try.  He  would  sit  for  hours  writhing  in  his 
torment,  and  then  again  he  would  spring  up  and 
pace  the  room  in  agitation,  though  he  was  too  weak 
to  bear  that  very  long.  Afterwards  the  long  night 
came  on,  and  all  through  it  he  lay  tossing  and 
moaning,  sometimes  shuddering  in  a  kind  of  parox 
ysm  of  grief, — Helen,  though  she  was  weary  and 
almost  fainting,  watching  thro  the  whole  night, 
her  heart  wild  with  her  dread. 

And  so  the  morning  came,  and  another  day  of 
misery;  and  in  the  midst  of  it  David  flung  himself 
down  upon  the  sofa  and  buried  his  face  in  his  arms 
and  cried  out,  "Oh  God,  my  God,  I  cannot  stand  it, 
I  cannot  stand  it!  Oh,  let  me  die!  I  dare  not  lift 
my  head — there  is  no  hope  for  me — there  is  no 
life  for  me — I  dare  not  pray!  It  is  more  than 
I  can  bear — I  am  beaten,  I  am  lost  forever!"  And 
Helen  fell  down  upon  her  knees  beside  him,  and  tore 
away  his  hands  from  his  face  and  stared  at  him 
frantically,  exclaiming,  "David,  it  is  too  cruel!  Oh, 
have  mercy  upon  me,  David,  if  you  love  me!" 

354 


KING  MIDAS 

He  stopped  and  gazed  long  and  earnestly  into 
her  face,  and  a  look  of  infinite  pity  came  into  his 
«'v«'s;  at  last  he  whispered,  in  a  low  voice,  "Poor, 
poor  little  Helen;  oh,  Helen,  God  help  you,  what 
can  I  do?"  He  paused  and  afterwards  went  on 
tremblingly,  "What  have  you  done  that  you  should 
suffer  like  this?  You  are  right  that  it  is  too  cruel — 
it  is  another  curse  that  I  have  to  bear!  For  I  knew 
that  I  was  born  to  suffering — I  knew  that  my  life 
was  broken  and  dying — and  yet  I  dared  to  take 
yours  into  it!  And  now,  what  can  I  do  to  save  you, 
Helen;  can  you  not  see  that  I  dare  not  live?" 

"David,  it  is  you  who  are  killing  yourself,"  the 
girl  moaned  in  answer.  He  did  not  reply,  but  there 
came  a  long,  long  silence,  in  which  he  seemed  to 
be  sinking  still  deeper;  and  when  he  went  on  it 
was  in  a  shuddering  voice  that  made  Helen's  heart 
stop.  "Oh,  it  is  no  use,"  he  gasped,  "it  is  no  use! 
Listen,  Helen,  there  was  another  secret  that  I  kept 
from  you,  because  it  was  too  fearful;  but  I  can  keep 
it  no  more,  I  can  fight  no  more!" 

He  stopped;  the  girl  had  clutched  his  arm,  and 
was  staring  into  his  face,  whispering  his  name 
hoarsely.  At  last  he  went  on  in  his  cruel  despair, 
"I  knew  this  years  ago,  too,  and  I  knew  that  I  was 
bringing  it  upon  you — the  misery  of  this  wretched, 
dying  body.  Oh,  it  hurts — it  hurts  now!"  And  he 
put  his  hand  over  his  heart,  as  a  look  of  pain  came 
into  his  face.  "It  cannot  stand  much  more,  my 
heart,"  he  panted;  "the  time  must  come — they  told 
me  it  would  come  years  ago!  And  then — and 
then " 

The  man   stopped,  because  he  was   looking  at 

355 


KING  MIDAS 

Helen;  she  had  not  made  a  sound,  but  her  face 
had  turned  so  white,  and  her  lips  were  trembling 
so  fearfully  that  he  dared  not  go  on;  she  gave  a 
loud,  choking  cry  and  burst  out  wildly,  "Oh,  David 
— David — it  is  fiendish — you  have  no  right  to  pun 
ish  me  so!  Oh,  have  mercy  upon  me,  for  you  are 
killing  me!  You  have  no  right  to  do  it,  I  tell  you 
it  is  a  crime;  you  promised  me  your  love,  and  if 
you  loved  me  you  would  live  for  my  sake,  you 
would  think  of  me!  A  thing  so  cruel  ought  not  to 
be — it  cannot  be  right — God  could  never  have  meant 
a  human  soul  to  suffer  so!  And  there  must  be 
pardon  in  the  world,  there  must  be  light— it  can 
not  all  be  torture  like  this!"  She  burst  into  a 
flood  of  tears  and  flung  herself  upon  David's  bosom, 
sobbing  again  and  again,  "Oh,  no,  no,  it  is  too 
fearful,  oh,  save  me,  save  me!" 

He  did  not  answer  her;  as  she  looked  up  at  him 
again  she  saw  the  same  look  of  fearful  woe,  and 
read  the  cruel  fact  that  there  was  no  help,  that  her 
own  grief  and  pleadings  were  only  deepening  the 
man's  wretchedness.  She  stared  at  him  for  a  long 
time;  and  when  she  spoke  to  him  again  it  was  with 
a  sudden  start,  and  in  a  strange,  ghastly  voice, — • 
"And  then,  David,  there  is  no  God?" 

He  trembled,  but  the  words  choked  him  as  he 
tried  to  respond,  and  his  head  dropped;  then 
at  last  she  heard  him  moan,  "Oh,  how  can  God  free 
my  soul  from  this  madness,  how  can  he  deliver  me 
from  such  a  curse?"  Helen  could  say  no  more — 
could  only  cling  to  him  and  sob  in  her  fright. 

So  the  day  passed  away,  and  another  night  came; 
and  still  the  crushed  and  beaten  soul  was  writhing 

356 


KING  MIDAS 

in  its  misery,  lost  in  blackness  and  despair;  and 
still  Helen  read  it  all  in  his  white  and  tortured 
features,  and  drank  the  full  cup  of  his  soul's  fiery 
pain. 

They  took  no  heed  of  the  time;  but  it  was  long 
after  darkness  had  fallen;  and  once  when  the  girl 
had  gone  upstairs  for  a  moment  she  heard  David 
pacing  about,  arid  then  heard  a  stifled  cry.  She 
rushed  down,  and  stopped  short  in  the  doorway. 
For  the  man  was  upon  his  knees,  his  face  uplifted 
in  wild  entreaty.  "Oh  God,  oh  merciful  God!"  he 
sobbed;  "all  the  days  of  my  life  I  have  sought  for 
righteousness,  labored  and  suffered  to  keep  my  soul 
alive!  And  oh,  was  it  all  for  this — was  it  to  go 
down  in  blackness  and  night,  to  die  a  beaten  man, 
crushed  and  lost?  Oh,  I  cannot  bear  it,  I  cannot 
bear  it!  It  cannot — it  must  not  be!" 

He  sank  forward  upon  the  sofa,  and  buried  his 
head  in  his  arms,  and  the  girl  could  hear  his  breath 
ing  in  the  stillness;  at  last  she  crept  across  the 
room  and  knelt  down  beside  him,  and  whispered 
softly  in  his  ear,  "You  do  not  give  me  your  heart 
any  more,  David?" 

It  was  a  long  time  before  he  answered  her,  and 
then  it  was  to  moan,  "Oh,  Helen,  my  heart  is  broken, 
I  can  give  it  to  no  one.  Once  I  had  strength  and 
faith,  and  could  love;  but  now  I  am  lost  and  ruined, 
and  there  is  nothing  that  can  save  me.  I  dare  not 
live,  and  I  dare  not  die,  and  I  know  not  where  to 
turn!" 

He  started  up  suddenly,  clasping  his  hands  to  his 
forehead  and  staggering  across  the  room,  crying 
out,  "Oh  no,  it  cannot  be,  oh,  it  cannot  be!  There 

357 


KING  MIDAS 

must  be  some  way  of  finding  pardon,  some  way  of 
winning  Tightness  for  a  soul!  Oh  God,  what  can  I 
do  for  peace?"  But  then  again  he  sank  down  and 
hid  his  face  and  sobbed  out:  "In  the  face  of  this 
nightmare, — with  this  horror  fronting  me!  She 
cried  for  pardon,  and  none  came." 

After  that  there  was  a  long  silence,  with  Helen 
crouching  in  terror  by  his  side.  She  heard  him 
groan:  "It  is  all  over,  it  is  finished — I  can  fight  no 
more,"  and  then  again  came  stillness,  and  when 
she  lifted  him  and  gazed  into  his  face  she  knew  not 
which  was  worse,  the  silent  helpless  despair  that 
was  upon  it,  or  the  torment  and  the  suffering  that 
had  gone  before.  She  tried  still  to  soothe  him, 
begging  and  pleading  with  him  to  have  mercy  upon 
her.  He  asked  her  faintly  what  he  could  do,  and 
the  poor  girl,  seeing  how  weak  and  exhausted  he 
was,  could  think  of  only  the  things  of  the  body, 
and  begged  him  to  try  to  rest.  "It  has  been  two 
nights  since  you  have  slept,  David,"  she  whispered. 

"I  cannot  sleep  with  this  burden  upon  my  soul,v 
he  answered  her;  but  still  she  pleaded  with  him, 
begging  him  as  he  loved  her;  and  he  yielded  to  her 
at  last,  and  broken  and  helpless  as  he  was,  she 
half  carried  him  upstairs  and  laid  him  upon  the 
bed  as  if  he  had  been  a  little  child.  That  seemed  to 
help  little,  however,  for  he  only  lay  tossing  and 
moaning,  "Oh,  God,  it  must  end;  I  cannot  bear  it!" 

Those  were  the  last  words  Helen  heard,  for  the 
poor  girl  was  exhausted  herself,  almost  to  fainting; 
she  lay  down,  without  undressing,  and  her  head 
had  scarcely  touched  the  pillow  before  she  was 
asleep.  In  the  meantime,  through  the  long  night- 

358 


KING  MIDAS 

watches   David   lay  writhing  and   crying  out   for 
help. 

The  moon  rose  dim  and  red  behind  the  moun 
tains, — it  had  mounted  high  in  the  sky,  and  the 
room  was  bright  with  it,  when  at  last  the  man  rose 
from  the  bed  and  began  swiftly  pacing  the  room, 
still  muttering  to  himself.  He  sank  down  upon  his 
knees  by  the  window  and  gazed  up  at  the  silent 
moon.  Then  again  he  rose  and  turned  suddenly, 
and  after  a  hurried  glance  at  Helen  went  to  the 
door  and  passed  out,  closing  it  silently  behind  him, 
and  whispered  to  himself,  half  deliriously,  "Oh, 
great  God,  it  must  end!  It  must  end!" 

It  was  more  than  an  hour  afterwards  that  the  girl 
awakened  from  her  troubled  sleep;  she  lay  for  an 
instant  half  dazed,  trying  to  bring  back  to  her  mind 
what  had  happened;  and  then  she  put  out  her  hand 
and  discovered  that  her  husband  was  no  longer  by 
her.  She  sat  up  with  a  wild  start,  and  at  the  same 
instant  her  ear  was  caught  by  a  sound  outside,  of 
footsteps  pacing  swiftly  back  and  forth,  back  and 
forth,  upon  the  piazza.  The  girl  leaped  up  with 
a  stifled  cry,  and  ran  out  of  the  room  and  down 
the  steps.  The  room  below  was  still  half  lighted 
by  the  flickering  log-fire,  and  Helen's  shadow  loomed 
up  on  the  opposite  wall  as  she  rushed  across  the 
room  and  opened  the  door. 

The  gray  light  of  dawn  was  just  spreading  across 
the  lake,  but  the  girl  noticed  only  one  thing,  her 
husband's  swiftly  moving  figure.  She  rushed  to 
him,  and  as  he  heard  her,  he  turned  and  stared  at 
her  an  instant  as  if  dazed,  and  then  staggered  with 

359 


KING  MIDAS 

a  cry  into  her  arms.  "David,  David!"  she  exclaimed, 
"what  is  the  matter?"  Then  as  she  clasped  him  to 
her  she  found  that  his  body  was  trembling  con 
vulsively,  and  that  his  hand  as  she  took  it  was  hot 
like  fire;  she  called  to  him  again  in  yet  greater 
anxiety:  "David,  David!  What  is  it?  You  will 
kill  me  if  you  treat  me  so!" 

He  answered  her  weakly,  "Nothing,  dear,  noth 
ing,"  and  she  caught  him  to  her,  and  turned  and 
half  carried  him  into  the  house.  She  staggered 
into  a  chair  with  him,  and  then  sat  gazing  in  terror 
at  his  countenance.  For  the  man's  forehead  was 
burning  and  moist,  and  his  frame  was  shaking  and 
broken ;  he  was  completely  prostrated  by  the  fearful 
agitation  that  had  possessed  him.  Helen  cried  to 
him  once  more,  but  he  could  only  pant,  "Wait, 
wait,"  and  sink  back  and  let  his  head  fall  upon  her 
arm;  he  lay  with  his  eyes  closed,  breathing  swiftly, 
and  shuddering  now  and  then.  "It  was  God!"  he 
panted  with  a  sudden  start,  his  voice  choking;  ''He 
has  shown  me  His  face!  He  has  set  me  free!" 

Then  again  for  a  long  time  he  lay  with  heaving 
bosom,  Helen  whispering  to  him  pleadingly,  "David, 
David!"  As  he  opened  his  eyes,  the  girl  saw  a 
wonderful  look  upon  his  face;  and  at  last  he  began 
speaking,  in  a  low,  shaking  voice,  and  pausing  often 
to  catch  his  breath:  "Oh,  Helen,"  he  said,  "it  is  all 
gone,  but  I  won,  and  my  life's  prayer  has  not  been 
for  nothing!  I  was  never  so  lost,  so  beaten;  but  all 
the  time  there  was  a  voice  in  my  soul  that  cried  to 
me  to  fight, — that  there  was  glory  enough  in  God's 
home  for  even  me!  And  oh,  to-night  it  came — it 
came!" 

360 


KING  MIDAS 

David  sank  back,  and  there  was  a  long  'silence 
before  he  went  on:  "It  was  wonderful,  Helen,"  he 
whispered,  "there  has  come  nothing  like  it  to  me 
in  all  my  life;  for  I  had  never  drunk  such  sorrow 
before,  never  known  such  fearful  need.  It  seems 
as  if  all  the  pent-up  forces  of  my  nature  broke 
loose  in  one  wild,  fearful  surge,  as  if  there  was  a 
force  behind  me  like  a  mighty,  driving  storm,  that 
swept  me  on  and  away,  beyond  self  and  beyond 
time,  and  out  into  the  life  of  things.  It  was  like 
the  surging  of  fierce  music,  it  was  the  great  ocean 
of  the  infinite  bursting  its  way  into  my  heart.  And 
it  bore  me  on,  so  that  I  was  mad  with  it,  so  that 
F  knew  not  where  I  was,  only  that  I  was  panting 
for  breath,  and  that  I  could  bear  it  no  more  and 
cried  out  in  pain!" 

David  as  he  spoke  had  been  lifting  himself,  the 
memory  of  his  vision  taking  hold  of  him  once  more; 
but  then  he  sank  down  again  and  whispered,  "Oh, 
I  have  no  more  strength,  I  can  do  no  more;  but  it 
was  God,  and  I  am  free!" 

He  lay  trembling  and  breathing  fast  again,  but 
sinking  back  from  his  effort  and  closing  his  eyes 
exhaustedly.  After  a  long  time  he  went  on  in  a 
faint  voice,  "I  suppose  if  I  had  lived  long  ago  that 
would  have  been  a  vision  of  God's  heaven;  and  yet 
there  was  not  an  instant  of  it — even  when  I  fell 
down  upon  the  ground  and  when  I  struck  my  hands 
upon  the  stones  because  they  were  numb  and  burn 
ing — when  I  did  not  know  just  what  it  was,  the 
surging  passion  of  my  soul  flung  loose  at  last!  It 
was  like  the  voices  of  the  stars  and  the  mountains, 
that  whisper  of  That  which  is  and  which  conquers, 

361 


KING  MIDAS 

of  That  which  conquers  without  sound  or  sign; 
Helen,  I  thought  of  that  wonderful  testament  of 
Pascal's  that  has  haunted  me  all  my  lifetime, — 
those  strange,  wild,  gasping  words  of  a  soul  gone 
mad  with  awe,  and  beyond  all  utterance  except  a 
cry, — 'Joy,  joy,  tears  of  joy!'  And  I  thought  of  a 
still  more  fearful  story,  I  thought  that  it  must  have 
been  such  thunder-music  that  rang  through  the 
soul  of  the  Master  and  swept  Him  away  beyond 
scorn  and  pain,  so  that  the  men  about  Him  seemed 
like  jeering  phantoms  that  He  might  scatter  with 
His  hand,  before  the  glory  of  vision  in  which  it 
was  all  one  to  live  or  die.  Oh,  it  is  that  which  has 
brought  me  my  peace!  God  needs  not  our 
help,  but  only  our  worship;  and  beside  His  glory 
all  our  guilt  is  nothing,  and  there  is  no  madness  like 
our  fear.  And  oh,  if  we  can  only  hold  to  that  and 

fight  for  it,  conquer  all  temptation  and  all  pain 

all  fear  because  we  must  die,  and  cease  to  be " 

The  man  had  clenched  his  hands  again,  and  was 
lifting  himself  with  the  wild  look  upon  his  counte 
nance;  he  seemed  to  the  girl  to  be  delirious,  and 
she  was  shuddering,  half  with  awe  and  half  with 
terror.  She  interrupted  him  in  a  sudden  burst  of 
alarm:  "Yes,  yes, — but  David,  David,  not  now,  not 
now — it  is  too  much — you  will  kill  yourself!" 

"I  can  die,"  he  panted,  "I  can  die,  but  I  cannot 
ever  be  mastered  again,  never  again  be  blind!  Oh, 
Helen,  all  my  life  I  have  been  lost  and  beaten — 
beaten  by  my  weakness  and  my  fear;  but  this  once, 
this  once  I  was  free,  this  once  I  knew,  and  I  lived; 
and  now  I  can  die  rejoicing!  Listen  to  me,  Helen; 
while  I  am  here  there  can  be  no  more  delaying, — 

362 


KING  MIDAS; 

no  more  weakness!  Such  sin  and  doubt  as  that 
of  yesterday  must  never  conquer  my  soul  again,  I 
will  not  any  more  be  at  the  mercy  of  chance.  I 
love  you,  Helen,  God  knows  that  I  love  you  with 
all  my  soul;  and  this  much  for  love  I  will  do,  if 
God  spares  me  a  day, — take  you,  and  tear  the  heart 
out  of  you,  if  need  be,  but  only  teach  you  to  live, 
teach  you  to  hold  by  this  Truth.  It  is  a  fearful 
thing,  Helen;  it  is  madness  to  me  to  know  that  at 
any  instant  I  may  cease  to  be,  and  that  you  may 
be  left  alone  in  your  terror  and  your  weakness. 
Oh,  look  at  me, — look  at  me!  There  is  no  more 
tempting  fate,  there  is  no  more  shirking  the  battle — 
there  is  life,  there  is  life  to  be  lived!  And  it  calls 
to  you  now, — now!  And  now  you  must  win, — cost 
just  what  it  may  in  blood  and  tears!  You  have  the 
choice  between  that  and  ruin,  and  before  God  you 
shall  choose  the  right!  Listen  to  me,  Helen — it  is 
only  prayer  that  can  do  it,  it  is  only  by  prayer  that 
you  can  fight  this  fearful  battle — bring  before  you 
this  truth  of  the  soul,  and  hold  on  to  it, — hold  on 
to  it  tho  it  kill  you!  For  He  was  through  all  the 
ages,  His  glory  is  of  the  skies;  and  we  are  but  for 
an  instant,  and  we  have  to  die;  and  this  we  must 
know,  or  we  are  lost!  There  comes  pain,  and  calls 
you  back  to  fear  and  doubt;  and  you  fight — oh,  it  is 
a  cruel  fight,  it  is  like  a  wild  beast  at  your  vitals, — 
but  still  you  hold  on — you  hold  on!" 

The  man  had  lifted  himself  with  a  wild  effort,  his 
hands  clenched  and  his  teeth  set.  He  had  caught 
the  girl's  hands  in  his,  and  she  screamed  in  fear: 
"David,  David!  You  will  kill  yourself!" 

"Yes,  yes!"  he  answered,  and  rushed  on,  chok- 

363 


KING  MIDAS 

ingly;  it  is  coming  just  so;  for  I  have  just  force 
enough  left  to  win — just  force  enough  to  save  you, 
— and  then  it  will  rend  this  frame  of  mine  in  two! 
It  comes  like  a  clutch  at  my  heart — it  blinds  me, 
and  the  sky  seems  to  turn  to  fire " 

He  sank  back  with  a  gasp;  Helen  caught  him  to 
her  bosom,  exclaiming  frantically,  "Oh,  David, 
spare  me — wait!  Not  now — you  cannot  bear  it — 
have  mercy!" 

He  lay  for  a  long  time  motionless,  seemingly  half 
dazed;  then  he  whispered  faintly,  "Yes,  dear,  yes; 
let  us  wait.  But  oh,  if  you  could  know  the  terror 
of  another  defeat,  of  sinking  down  and  letting  one's 
self  be  bound  in  the  old  chains — I  must  not  lose, 
Helen,  I  dare  not  fail!" 

"Listen,  David,"  whispered  Helen,  beginning  sud 
denly  with  desperate  swiftness;  "why  should  you 
fail?  Why  can  you  not  listen  to  me,  pity  me,  wait 
until  you  are  strong?  You  have  won,  you  will  not 
forget — and  is  there  no  peace,  can  you  not  rest  in 
this  faith,  and  fear  no  more?"  The  man  seemed  to 
Helen  to  be  half  out  of  his  mind  for  the  moment; 
she  was  trying  to  manage  him  with  a  kind  of 
frenzied  cunning.  As  she  wrent  on  whispering  and 
imploring  she  saw  that  David's  exhaustion  was 
gradually  overcoming  him  more  and  more,  and  that 
he  was  sinking  farther  and  farther  back  from  his 
wild  agitation.  At  last  after  she  had  continued 
thus  for  a  while  he  closed  his  eyes  and  began 
breathing  softly.  "Yes,  dear,"  he  whispered;  "yes; 
I  will  be  quiet.  There  has  come  to  my  soul  to-night 
a  peace  that  is  not  for  words;  I  can  be  still,  and 
know  that  He  is  God,  and  that  He  is  holy." 

364 


KING  MIDAS 

His  voice  dropped  lower  each  instant,  the  girl  in 
the  meantime  soothing  him  and  stroking  his  fore 
head  and  pleading  with  him  in  a  shuddering  voice, 
her  heart  wild  with  fright.  When  at  last  he  was  quite 
still,  and  the  fearful  vision,  that  had  been  like  a 
nightmare  to  her,  was  gone  with  all  its  storm  and 
its  madness,  she  took  him  upon  her  lap,  just  as 
she  had  done  before,  and  sat  there  clasping  him  in 
her  arms  while  the  time  fled  by  unheeded.  It  was 
long  afterwards — the  sun  was  gleaming  across  the 
lake  and  in  at  the  window — before  at  last  her  trem 
bling  prayer  was  answered,  and  he  sank  into  an 
exhausted  slumber. 

She  sat  watching  him  for  a  long  time  still,  quite 
white  with  fear  and  weariness;  finally,  however, 
she  rose,  and  carrying  the  frail  body  in  her  arms, 
laid  it  quietly  upon  the  sofa  in  the  next  room.  She 
knelt  watching  it  for  a  time,  then  went  out  upon 
the  piazza,  closing  the  door  behind  her. 

And  there  the  fearful  tension  that  the  dread  of 
wakening  him  had  put  upon  her  faculties  gave  way 
at  last,  and  the  poor  girl  buried  her  face  in  her 
hands,  and  sank  down,  sobbing  convulsively:  "Oh, 
God,  oh,  God,  what  can  I  do,  how  can  I  bear  it?" 
She  gazed  about  her  wildly,  exclaiming,  "I  cannot 
stand  it,  and  there  is  no  one  to  help  me!  What 
can  I  do?" 

Perhaps  it  was  the  first  real  prayer  that  had  ever 
passed  Helen's  lips;  but  the  burden  of  her  sorrow 
v.  as  too  great  just  then  for  her  to  bear  alone,  even 
in  thought.  She  leaned  against  the  railing  of  the 
porch  with  her  arms  stretched  out  before  her  im 
ploringly,  her  face  uplifted,  and  the  tears  running 

365 


KING  MIDAS 

down  her  cheeks;  she  poured  out  one  frantic  cry, 
the  only  cry  that  she  could  think  of: — "Oh,  God, 
have  mercy  upon  me,  have  mercy  upon  me!  I  can 
not  bear  it!" 

So  she  sobbed  on,  and  several  minutes  passed, 
but  there  came  to  her  no  relief;  when  she  thought 
of  David,  of  his  breaking  body  and  of  his  struggling 
soul,  it  seemed  to  her  as  if  she  were  caught  in  the 
grip  of  a  fiend,  and  that  no  power  could  save  her. 
She  could  only  clasp  her  hands  together  and  shud 
der,  and  whisper,  "What  shall  I  do,  what  shall  I 
do?" 

Thus  it  was  that  the  time  sped  by;  and  the  morn 
ing  sun  rose  higher  in  front  of  her,  and  shone  down 
upon  the  wild  and  wan  figure  that  seemed  like  a 
phantom  of  the  night.  She  was  still  crouching  in 
the  same  position,  her  mind  as  overwrought  and 
hysterical  as  ever,  when  a  strange  and  unexpected 
event  took  place,  one  which  seemed  to  her  at  first 
in  her  state  of  fright  like  some  delusion  of  her 
mind. 

Except  for  her  own  emotion,  and  for  the  faint 
sound  of  the  waves  upon  the  shore,  everything  about 
her  had  been  still;  her  ear  was  suddenly  caught, 
however,  by  the  noise  of  a  footstep,  and  she  turned 
and  saw  the  figure  of  a  man  coming  down  the  path 
from  the  woods;  she  started  to  her  feet,  gazing  in 
surprise. 

It  was  broad  daylight  then,  and  Helen  could  see 
the  person  plainly;  she  took  only  one  glance,  and 
reeled  and  staggered  back  as  if  it  were  a  ghost  at 
which  she  was  gazing.  She  crouched  by  a  pillar 
of  the  porch,  trembling  like  a  leaf,  and  scarcely 

366 


KINCv!  MIDAS 

able  to  keep  her  senses,  leaning  from  side  to  side 
and  peering  out,  with  her  whole  attitude  expressive 
of  unutterable  consternation,  and  even  fright.  At 
last  when  she  had  gazed  until  it  was  no  longer 
possible  for  her  to  think  that  she  was  the  victim  of 
madness,  she  stared  suddenly  up  into  the  air,  and 
caught  her  forehead  in  her  hands,  at  the  same  time 
whispering  to  herself  in  an  almost  fainting  voice: 
"Great  heaven,  what  can  it  mean?  Can  it  be  real 
— can  it  be  true?  It  is  Arthur!" 


Fed. 


367 


CHAPTER  IV 

I  am  Merlin 

And  I  am  dying, 
"I  am  Merlin, 

Who   follow  the   Gleam." 

HELEN  stood  gazing  at  the  figure  in  utter  con 
sternation  for  at  least  half  a  minute  before  she 
could  find  voice;  then  she  bent  forward  and 
called  to  him  wildly — "Arthur!" 

It  was  the  other's  turn  to  be  startled  then,  and  he 
staggered  backward;  as  he  gazed  up  at  Helen  his 
look  showed  plainly  that  he  too  was  half  convinced 
that  he  was  gazing  at  a  phantom  of  his  own  mind, 
and  for  a  long  time  he  stood,  pressing  his  hands  to 
his  heart  and  unable  to  make  a  sound  or  a  move 
ment.  When  finally  he  broke  the  silence  his  voice 
was  a  hoarse  whisper.  "Helen,"  he  panted,  "what 
in  heaven's  name  are  you  doinp  here?" 

And  then  as  the  girl  answered,  "This  is  my  home, 
Arthur,"  he  gave  another  sta^t. 

"You  live  here  with  Mm?"  he  gasped. 

"With  him?"  echoed  Helen  in  a  low  voice.  "With 
whom,  Arthur?" 

He  answered,  "With  that  Mr.  Harrison."  A  look 
of  amazement  crossed  Helen's  face,  tho  followed 
quickly  by  a  gleam  of  comprehension.  She  had 
quite  forgotten  that  Arthur  knew  nothing  about 
what  she  had  done. 

368 


KING  MIDAS 

"Arthur,"  she  said,  "I  did  not  marry  Mr.  Harri 
son;"  then,  seeing  that  he  was  staring  at  her  in  still 
greater  wonder,  she  went  on  hastily:  "It  seems 
strange  to  go  back  to  those  old  days  now;  but  once 
I  meant  to  tell  you  all  about  it,  Arthur."  She 
paused  for  a  moment  and  then  went  on  slowly: 
"All  the  time  I  was  engaged  to  that  man  I  was 
wretched;  and  when  I  saw  you  the  last  time^— that 
dreadful  time  by  the  road — it  was  almost  more 
than  I  could  bear;  so  I  took  back  my  wicked  prom 
ise  of  marriage  and  came  to  see  you  and  tell  you  all 
about  it." 

As  the  girl  had  been  speaking  the  other  had  been 
staring  at  her  with  a  look  upon  his  face  that  was 
indescribable,  a  look  that  was  more  terror  than 
anything  else;  he  had  staggered  back,  he  grasped 
at  a  tree  to  support  himself.  Helen  saw  the  look 
and  stopped,  frightened  herself. 

"What  is  it,  Arthur?"  she  cried;  "what  is  the 
matter?" 

"You  came  to  see  me!"  the  other  gasped 
hoarsely.  "You  came  to  see  me — and  I — and  I 
was  gone!" 

"Yes,  Arthur,"  said  Helen;  "you  had  gone  the 
night  before,  and  I  could  not  find  you.  Then  I  met 
this  man  that  I  loved,  and  you  wrote  that  you  had 
torn  the  thought  of  me  from  your  heart;  and 

Again  Helen  stopped,  for  the  man  had  sunk  bark- 
wards  with  a  cry  that  made  her  heart  leap  in  fright. 
"Arthur!"  she  exclaimed,  taking  a  step  towards 
him;  and  he  answered  her  with  a  moan,  stretching 

24  369 


KING  MIDAS 

out  his  arms  to  her.  "Great  God,  Helen,  that  letter 
was  a  lie!" 

Helen  stopped,  rooted  to  the  spot.  "A  lie?"  she 
whispered  faintly. 

"Yes,  a  lie!"  cried  the  other  with  a  sudden  burst 
of  emotion,  leaping  up  and  starting  towards  her. 
"Helen,  I  have  suffered  the  tortures  of  hell!  I 
loved  you — I  love  you  now!" 

The  girl  sprang  back,  and  the  blood  rushed  to  her 
cheeks.  Half  instinctively  she  drew  her  light 
dress  more  tightly  about  her;  and  the  other  saw  the 
motion  and  stopped,  a  look  of  despair  crossing  his 
face.  The  two  stood  thus  for  fully  a  minute,  staring 
at  each  other  wildly;  then  suddenly  Arthur  asked: 
"You  love  this  man  whom  you  have  married?  You 
love  him?" 

The  girl  answered,  "Yes,  I  love  him,"  and  Ar 
thur's  arms  dropped,  and  his  head  sank  forward. 
There  was  a  look  upon  his  face  that  tore  Helen's 
heart  to  see,  so  that  for  a  moment  or  two  she  stood 
quite  dazed  with  this  new  terror.  Then  all  at  once, 
however,  the  old  one  came  back  to  her  thoughts, 
and  with  a  faint  cry  she  started  toward  her  old 
friend,  stretching  out  her  arms  to  him  and  calling  to 
him  imploringly. 

"Oh,  Arthur,"  she  cried,  "have  mercy  upon  me — 
do  not  frighten  me  any  more!  Arthur,  if  you  only 
knew  what  I  have  suffered,  you  would  pity  me, 
you  could  not  help  it!  You  would  not  fling  this 
burden  of  your  misery  upon  me  too." 

The  man  fixed  his  eyes  upon  her  and  for  the  first 
time  he  seemed  to  become  aware  of  the  new  Helen, 
the  Helen  who  had  replaced  the  girl  he  had  known. 


KING  MIDAS 

He  read  in  her  ghastly  white  face  some  hint  of  what 
she  had  been  through,  and  his  own  look  turned 
quickly  to  one  of  wonder,  and  even  awe.  "Helen," 
he  whispered,  "are  you  ill?" 

"No,  Arthur,"  she  responded  quickly,  full  of 
desperate  hope  as  she  saw  his  change.  "Not  ill, 
but  oh,  so  frightened.  I  have  been  more  wretched 
than  you  can  ever  dream.  Can  you  not  help  me, 
Arthur,  trill  you  not?  I  was  almost  despairing,  I 
thought  that  my  heart  would  burst.  Can  you  not 
be  unselfish?" 

The  man  gazed  at  her  at  least  a  minute ;  and  when 
he  answered  at  last,  it  was  in  a  low,  grave  voice 
that  was  new  to  her. 

"I  will  do  it,  Helen,"  he  said.    "What  is  it?" 

The  girl  came  toward  him,  her  voice  sinking. 
"We  must  not  let  him  hear  us,  Arthur,"  she  whis 
pered.  Then  as  she  gazed  into  his  face  she  added 
pathetically,  "Oh,  I  cannot  tell  you  how  I  have 
wished  that  I  might  only  have  someone  to  sym 
pathize  with  me  and  help  me!  I  can  tell  everything 
to  you,  Arthur." 

"You  are  not  happy  with  your  husband?"  asked 
the  other,  in  a  wondering  tone,  not  able  to  guess 
what  she  meant. 

"Happy!"  echoed  Helen.  "Arthur,  he  is  ill,  and  I 
have  been  so  terrified!  I  feared  that  he  was  going 
to  die;  we  have  had  such  a  dreadful  sorrow."  She 
paused  for  a  moment,  and  gazed  about  her  swiftly, 
and  laying  her  finger  upon  her  lips.  "He  is  asleep 
DOW,"  she  went  on,  "asleep  for  the  first  time  in 
three  nights,  and  I  was  afraid  that  we  might  waken 


KING  MIDAS 

him;  we  must  not  make  a  sound,  for  it  is  so  dread 
ful." 

She  stopped,  and  the  other  asked  her  what  was 
the  matter.  "It  was  three  nights  ago,"  she  con 
tinued,  "and  oh,  we  were  so  happy  before  it!  But 
there  came  a  strange  woman,  a  fearful  creature, 
and  she  was  drunk,  and  my  husband  found  her  and 
brought  her  home.  She  was  delirious,  she  died  here 
in  his  arms,  while  there  was  no  one  to  help  her. 
The  dreadful  thing  was  that  David  had  known  this 
woman  when  she  was  a  girl- 
Helen  paused  again,  and  caught  her  breath,  for 
she  had  been  speaking  very  swiftly,  shaken  by  the 
memory  of  the  scene;  the  other  put  in,  in  a  low 
tone,  "I  heard  all  about  this  woman's  death,  Helen, 
and  I  know  about  her — that  was  how  I  happen  to 
be  here." 

And  the  girl  gave  a  start,  echoing,  "Why  you 
happen  to  be  here?"  Afterwards  she  added  quickly, 
"Oh,  I  forgot  to  ask  you  about  that.  What  do  you 
mean,  Arthur?" 

He  hesitated  a  moment  before  he  answered  her, 
speaking  very  slowly.  "It  is  so  sad,"  Helen,"  he 
said,  "it  is  almost  too  cruel  to  talk  about."  He 
stopped  again,  and  the  girl  looked  at  him,  wonder 
ing;  then  he  went  on  to  speak  one  sentence  that 
struck  her  like  a  bolt  of  lightning  from  the  sky: — 
"Helen,  that  poor  woman  was  my  mother!" 

And  Helen  staggered  back,  almost  falling,  clutch 
ing  her  hands  to  her  forehead,  and  staring,  half 
dazed. 

"Arthur,"  she  panted,  "Arthur!" 

372 


KING  MIDAS 

He  bowed  his  head  sadly,  answering,  "Yes,  Helen, 
it  is  dreadful— 

And  the  girl  leaped  towards  him,  seizing  him  by 
the  shoulders  with  a  thrilling  cry;  she  stared  into 
his  eyes,  her  own  glowing  like  fire.  "Arthur!"  she 
gasped  again,  "Arthur!" 

He  only  looked  at  her  wonderingly,  as  if  thinking 
she  was  mad;  until  suddenly  she  burst  out  fran 
tically,  "You  are  David's  child!  You  are  David's 
child!"  And  then  for  fully  half  a  minute  the  two 
stood  staring  at  each  other,  too  much  dazed  to  move 
or  to  make  a  sound. 

At  last  Arthur  echoed  the  words,  scarcely 
audibly,  "David's  child!"  and  added,  "David  is  your 
husband?"  As  Helen  whispered  "Yes"  again,  they 
stood  panting  for  breath.  It  was  a  long  time  before 
the  girl  could  find  another  word  to  speak,  except 
over  and  over,  "David's  child!"  She  seemed  un 
able  to  realize  quite  what  it  meant,  she  seemed 
unable  to  put  the  facts  together. 

But  then  suddenly  Arthur  whispered:  "Then  it 
was  your  husband  who  ruined  that  woman?"  and 
as  Helen  answered  "Yes,"  she  grasped  a  little  of  the 
truth,  and  also  of  Arthur's  thought.  She  ran  on 
swiftly:  "But  oh,  it  was  not  his  fault,  he  was  only 
a  boy,  Arthur!  And  he  wished  to  marry  her,  but 
they  would  not  let  him — I  must  tell  you  about 
that!"  Then  she  stopped  short,  however;  and  when 
she  went  on  it  was  in  sudden  wild  joy  that  over 
came  all  her  other  feelings,  joy  that  gleamed  in  her 
face  and  made  her  fling  herself  down  upon  her  knees 
before  Arthur  and  clutch  his  hands  in  hers. 

"Oh,"  she  cried,  "it  was  God  who  sent  you,  Ar- 

373 


KING  MIDAS 

thur, — oh,  I  know  that  it  was  God!  It  is  so  wonder 
ful  to  think  of — to  have  come  to  us  all  in  a  flash! 
And  it  will  save  David's  life — it  was  the  thought  of 
the  child  and  the  fate  that  it  might  have  suffered 
that  terrified  him  most  of  all,  Arthur.  And  now 
to  think  that  it  is  you — oh,  you!  And  you  are 
David's  son — I  cannot  believe  it,  I  cannot  believe 
it!"  Then  with  a  wild  laugh  she  sprang  up  again 
and  turned,  exclaiming,  "Oh,  he  will  be  so  happy, — 
I  must  tell  him — we  must  not  lose  an  instant!" 

She  caught  Arthur's  hand  again,  and  started  to 
wards  the  house;  but  she  had  not  taken  half  a 
dozen  steps  before  she  halted  suddenly,  and  whis 
pered,  "Oh,  no,  I  forgot!  He  is  asleep,  and  we  must 
not  waken  him  now,  we  must  wait!" 

And  then  again  the  laughter  broke  out  over  her 
face,  and  she  turned  upon  him,  radiant.  "It  is  so 
wonderful!"  she  cried.  "It  is  so  wonderful  to  be 
happy,  to  be  free  once  more!  And  after  so  much 
darkness — oh,  it  is  like  coming  out  of  prison!  Ar 
thur,  dear  Arthur,  just  think  of  it!  And  David 
will  be  so  glad!"  The  tears  started  into  the  girl's 
eyes;  she  turned  away  to  gaze  about  her  at  the 
golden  morning  and  to  drink  in  great  draughts  of  its 
freshness  that  made  her  bosom  heave.  The  life 
seemed  to  have  leaped  back  into  her  face  all  at 
once,  and  the  color  into  her  cheeks,  and  she  was 
more  beautiful  than  ever.  "To  think  of  being 
happy!"  she  panted,  "happy  again!  Oh,  if  I  were 
not  afraid  of  waking  David,  you  do  not  know  how 
happy  I  could  be!  Don't  you  think  I  ought  to 
waken  him  anyway,  Arthur? — it  is  so  wonderful — 
it  will  make  him  strong  again!  It  is  so  beautiful 

374 


KING  MIDAS 

that  you,  whom  I  have  always  been  so  fond  of,  that 
you  should  be  David's  son!  And  you  can  live  here 
and  be  happy  with  us!  Arthur,  do  you  know  I  used 
to  think  how  much  like  David  you  looked,  and 
wonder  at  it;  but,  oh,  are  you  sure  it  is  true?" 

She  chanced  to  think  of  the  letter  that  had  been 
left  at  her  father's,  and  exclaimed,  "It  must  have 
been  that!  You  have  been  home,  Arthur?"  she 
added  quickly.  "And  while  father  was  up  here?" 

"Yes,"  said  he,  "I  wanted  to  see  your  father — I 
could  not  stay  away  from  home  any  longer.  I  was 

so  very  lonely  and  unhappy "  Arthur  stopped 

for  a  moment,  and  the  girl  paled  slightly;  as  he 
saw  it  he  continued  rapidly:  "There  was  no  one 
there  but  the  servant,  and  she  gave  me  the  letter." 

"And  did  she  not  tell  you  about  me?"  asked 
Helen. 

"I  asked  if  you  were  married,"  Arthur  said;  "I 
would  not  listen  to  any  more,  for  I  could  not  bear 
it;  when  I  had  read  the  letter  I  came  up  here  to 
look  for  my  poor  mother.  I  wanted  to  see  her;  I 
was  as  lonely  as  she  ever  was,  and  I  wanted  some 
one's  sympathy — even  that  poor,  beaten  soul's.  I 
heard  in  the  town  that  she  was  dead ;  they  told  me 
where  the  grave  was,  and  that  was  how  I  happened 
out  here.  I  thought  I  would  see  it  once  before  I 
left,  and  before  the  people  who  lived  in  this  house 
were  awake.  Helen,  when  I  saw  you  I  thought  it 
was  a  ghost." 

"It  is  wonderful,  Arthur,"  whispered  the  girl; 
*'it  is  almost  too  much  to  believe — but,  oh,  I  can't 
think  of  anything  except  how  happy  it  will  make 

375 


KING  MIDAS 

David!  I  love  him  so,  Arthur — and  you  will  love 
him,  too,  you  cannot  help  but  love  him.7' 

"Tell  me  about  it  all,  Helen,"  the  other  answered; 
"I  heard  nothing,  you  know,  about  my  poor  moth 
er's  story." 

Before  Helen  answered  the  question  she  glanced 
about  her  at  the  morning  landscape,  and  for  the 
first  time  thought  of  the  fact  that  it  was  cold. 
"Let  us  go  inside,"  she  said;  "we  can  sit  there  and 
talk  until  David  wakens."  And  the  two  stole  in, 
Helen  opening  the  door  very  softly.  David  was 
sleeping  in  the  next  room,  so  that  it  was  possible 
not  to  disturb  him;  the  two  sat  down  before  the 
flickering  fire  and  conversed  in  low  whispers.  The 
girl  told  him  the  story  of  David's  love,  and  told 
him  all  about  David,  and  Arthur  in  turn  told  her 
how  he  had  been  living  in  the  meantime;  only  be 
cause  he  saw  how  suddenly  happy  she  was,  and 
withal  how  nervous  and  overwrought,  he  said  no 
more  of  his  sufferings. 

And  Helen  had  forgotten  them  utterly;  it  was 
pathetic  to  see  her  delight  as  she  thought  of  being 
freed  from  the  fearful  terror  that  had  haunted 
her, — she  was  like  a  little  child  in  her  relief.  "He 
will  be  so  happy — he  will  be  so  happy!"  she  whis 
pered  again  and  again.  "We  can  all  be  so  happy!" 
The  thought  that  Arthur  was  actually  David's  son 
was  so  wonderful  that  she  seemed  never  to  be  able 
to  realize  it  fully,  and  every  time  she  uttered  the 
thought  it  was  a  sweep  of  the  wings  of  her  soul. 
Arthur  had  to  tell  her  many  times  that  it  was 
actually  Mary  who  had  been  named  in  that  letter. 

So  an  hour  or  two  passed  by,  and  still  David  did 
376 


KING  MIDAS 

not  waken.  Helen  had  crept  to  the  door  once  or 
twice  to  listen  to  his  quiet  breathing;  but  each  time, 
thinking  of  his  long  trial,  she  had  whispered  that 
she  could  not  bear  to  disturb  him  yet.  However, 
she  was  getting  more  and  more  impatient,  and  she 
asked  Arthur  again  and  again,  "Don't  you  think  I 
ought  to  wake  him  now,  don't  you  think  so — even 
if  it  is  just  for  a  minute,  you  know?  For  oh,  In- 
will  be  so  glad — it  will  be  like  waking  up  in 
heaven!" 

So  it  went  on  until  at  last  she  could  keep  the 
secret  no  longer;  she  thought  for  a  while,  and  then 
whispered,  "I  know  what  I  will  do — I  will  play 
some  music  and  waken  him  in  that  way.  That  will 
not  alarm  him,  and  it  will  be  beautiful." 

She  went  to  the  piano  and  sat  down.  "It  will 
seem  queer  to  be  playing  music  at  this  hour,"  she 
whispered;  but  then  she  glanced  at  the  clock  and 
saw  that  it  was  nearly  seven,  and  added,  "Why,  no, 
we  have  often  begun  by  this  time.  You  know, 
Arthur,  we  used  to  get  up  wonderfully  early  all 
summer,  because  it  was  so  beautiful  then,  and  we 
used  to  have  music  at  all  sorts  of  times.  Oh,  you 
cannot  dream  how  happy  we  were, — you  must  wait 
until  you  see  David,  and  then  you  will  know  why 
I  love  him  so!" 

She  stopped  and  sat  thoughtfully  for  a  moment 
whispering,  "What  shall  I  play?"  Then  she  ex 
claimed,  "I  know,  Arthur;  I  will  play  something 
that  he  loves  very  much — and  that  you  used  to  love, 
too — something  that  is  very  soft  and  low  and 
beautiful." 

Arthur  had  seated  himself  beside  the  piano  and 

377 


KING  MIDAS 

was  gazing  at  her;  the  girl  sat  still  for  a  moment 
more,  gazing  ahead  of  her  and  waiting  for  every 
thing  to  be  hushed.  Then  she  began,  so  low  as 
scarcely  to  be  audible,  the  first  movement  of  the 
wonderful  "Moonlight  Sonata." 

As  it  stole  upon  the  air  and  swelled  louder,  she 
smiled,  because  it  was  so  beautiful  a  way  to  waken 
David. 

And  yet  there  are  few  things  in  music  more  laden 
with  concentrated  mournfulness  than  that  sonata — 
with  the  woe  that  is  too  deep  for  tears;  as  the 
solemn  beating  of  it  continued,  in  spite  of  them 
selves  the  two  found  that  they  were  hushed  and 
silent.  It  brought  back  to  Helen's  mind  all  of 
David's  suffering — it  seemed  to  be  the  very  breath 
ing  of  his  sorrow;  and  yet  still  she  whispered  on  to 
herself,  "He  will  waken;  and  then  he  will  be  happy!" 

In  the  next  room  David  lay  sleeping.  At  first  it 
had  been  heavily,  because  he  was  exhausted,  and 
afterwards,  when  the  stupor  had  passed,  restlessly 
and  with  pain.  Then  at  last  came  the  music,  falling 
softly  at  first  and  blending  with  his  dreaming,  and 
afterwards  taking  him  by  the  hand  and  leading  him 
out  into  the  land  of  reality,  until  he  found  himself 
lying  and  listening  to  it.  As  he  recollected  all  that 
had  happened  he  gave  a  slight  start  and  sat  up, 
wondering  at  the  strangeness  of  Helen's  playing 
then.  He  raised  his  head,  and  then  rose  to  call  her. 

And  at  that  instant  came  the  blow. 

The  man  suddenly  gave  a  fearful  start;  he  stag 
gered  back  upon  the  sofa,  clutching  at  his  side  with 
his  hand,  his  face  turning  white,  and  a  look  of  wild 

378 


Adagio  sostennto. 


r^r^r^f 


semprtpp  e  smza  sordini. 


-*-  »     •+ 


. 


KING  MIDAS 

horror  coming  over  it.  For  an  instant  he  held  him 
self  up  by  the  sofa,  staring  around  him;  and  then 
he  sank  back,  half  upon  the  floor,  his  head  falling 
backwards.  And  so  he  lay  gasping,  torn  with  agony, 
while  the  fearful  music  trod  on,  the  relentless 
throbbing  of  it  like  a  hammer  upon  his  soul.  Twice 
he  strove  to  raise  himself  and  failed;  and  twice  he 
started  to  cry  out,  and  checked  himself  in  terror; 
and  so  it  went  on  until  the  place  of  despair  was 
reached,  until  there  came  that  one  note  in  the  music 
that  is  the  plunge  into  night.  Helen  stopped  sud 
denly  there,  and  everything  was  deathly  still — ex 
cept  for  the  fearful  heaving  of  David's  bosom. 

That  silencr  lasted  for  several  moments;  Helen 
seemed  to  be  waiting  and  listening,  and  David's 
whole  being  was  in  suspense.  Then  suddenly  he 
gave  a  start,  for  he  heard  the  girl  coming  to  the 
door. 

With  a  gasp  of  dread  he  half  raised  himself, 
grasping  the  sofa  with  his  knotted  hands.  He  slid 
down,  half  crawling  and  half  falling,  into  the  cor 
ner,  where  he  crouched,  breathless  and  shuddering; 
so  he  was  when  Helen  came  into  the  room. 

She  did  not  see  him  on  the  sofa,  and  she  gave  a 
startled  cry.  She  wheeled  about  and  gazed  around 
the  room.  "Where  can  he  be?"  she  exclaimed.  "He 
is  not  here!"  and  ran  out  to  the  piazza.  Then  came 
a  still  more  anxious  call :  ''David!  David!  Where 
are  you?" 

And  in  the  meantime  David  was  still  crouching  in 
the  corner,  his  face  uplifted  and  torn  with  agony. 
He  gave  one  fearful  sob,  and  then  he  sank  forward ; 
drawing  himself  by  the  sheer  force  of  his  arms  he 

379 


KING  MIDAS 

crawled  again  into  sight,  and  lay  clinging  to  the 
sofa.  Then  he  gave  a  faint  gasping  cry,  "Helen!" 

And  the  girl  heard  it,  and  rushed  to  the  door; 
she  gave  one  glance  at  the  prostrate  form  and  at  the 
white  face,  and  then  leaped  forward  with  a  shrill 
scream,  a  scream  that  echoed  through  the  little 
house,  and  that  froze  Arthur's  blood.  She  flung 
herself  down  on  her  knees  beside  her  husband,  cry 
ing  "David!  David!"  And  the  man  looked  up  at 
her  with  his  ghastly  face  and  his  look  of  terror,  and 
panted,  "Helen — Helen,  it  has  come!" 

She  screamed  again  more  wildly  than  before,  and 
caught  him  to  her  bosom  in  frenzy.  "No,  no,  David! 
No,  no!"  she  cried  out;  but  he  only  whispered 
hoarsely  again,  "It  has  come!" 

Meanwhile  Arthur  had  rushed  into  the  room,  and 
the  two  lifted  the  sufferer  up  to  the  sofa,  where  he 
sank  back  and  lay  for  a  moment  or  two,  half  dazed; 
then,  in  answer  to  poor  Helen's  agonized  pleading, 
he  gazed  at  her  once  more. 

"David,  David!"  she  sobbed,  choking;  "listen  to 
me;  it  cannot  be,  David,  no,  no!  And  see,  here  is 
Arthur — Arthur!  And  David — he  is  your  son,  he  is 
Mary's  child!" 

The  man  gave  a  faint  start  and  looked  at  her  in 
bewilderment;  then  as  she  repeated  the  words 
again,  "He  is  your  son,  he  is  Mary's  child,"  grad 
ually  a  look  of  wondering  realization  crossed  his 
countenance,  and  he  turned  and  stared  up  at  Arthur. 

"Is  it  true?"  he  whispered  hoarsely.  "There  is  no 
doubt?" 

Helen  answered  him  "Yes,  yes,"  again  and  again, 
swiftly  and  desperately,  as  if  thinking  that  the  joy 

380 


KING  MIDAS 

of  it  would  restore  his  waning  strength.  The 
thought  did  bring  ;i  wonderful  look  of  peace  over 
David's  face,  as  he  gazed  from  one  to  the  other 
and  comprehended  it  all;  he  caught  Arthur's  arm  in 
his  trembling  hands.  "Oh,  God  be  praised,"  he 
whispered,  "it  is  almost  too  much.  Oh,  take  care 
of  her — take  care  of  her  for  me!" 

The  girl  flung  herself  upon  his  bosom,  sobbing 
madly;  and  David  sank  back  and  lay  for  an  instant 
or  two  with  his  eyes  shut,  before  at  last  her  suffer 
ing  roused  him  again.  He  lifted  himself  up  on  his 
elbows  with  a  fearful  effort.  "Helen!"  he  whis 
pered,  in  a  deep,  hollow  voice;  "listen  to  me — listen 
to  me! — I  have  only  a  minute  more  to  speak." 

The  girl  buried  her  head  in  his  bosom  with  an 
other  cry,  but  he  shook  her  back  and  caught  her  by 
the  wrists,  at  the  same  time  sitting  erect,  a  strain 
that  made  the  veins  in  his  temples  start  out.  "Look 
at  me!"  he  gasped.  "Look  at  me!"  and  as  the  girl 
stared  into  his  eyes  that  were  alive  with  the  last 
frenzied  effort  of  his  soul,  he  went  on,  speaking 
with  fierce  swiftness  and  panting  for  breath  be 
tween  each  phrase: 

"Helen — Helen — listen  to  me — twenty  years  I 
have  kept  myself  alive  on  earth  by  such  a  struggle — 
by  the  power  of  a  will  that  would  not  yield!  And 
now  there  is  but  an  instant  more — an  instant — I 
cannot  bear  it — except  to  save  your  soul!  For  I  am 
going — do  you  hear  me — going!  And  you  must 
stay, — and  you  have  the  battle  for  your  life  to  fight! 
Listen  to  me — look  into  my  eyes, — for  you  must  call 
up  your  powers — no-\c — now  before  it  is  too  late! 
You  cannot  shirk  it — do  you  hear  me?  It  is  here!" 

381 


KING  MIDAS 

And  as  the  man  was  speaking  the  frenzied  words 
the  look  of  a  tiger  had  come  into  his  face;  his  eyes 
were  starting  from  his  head,  and  he  held  Helen's 
wrists  in  a  grip  that  turned  them  black,  tho  then  she 
did  not  feel  the  pain.  She  was  gazing  into  his  face, 
convulsed  with  fright;  and  the  man  gasped  for 
breath  once  more,  and  then  rushed  on: 

"A  fight  like  this  comes  once  to  a  soul,  Helen— 
and  it  wins  or  it  loses — and  you  must  win!  Do  you 
hear  me? — Win!  I  am  dying,  Helen,  I  am  going — 
and  I  leave  you  to  God,  and  to  life.  He  is,  He  made 
you,  and  He  demands  your  worship  and  your  faith — 
that  you  hold  your  soul  lord  of  all  chances,  that 
you  make  yourself  master  of  your  life!  And  now  is 
your  call — now!  You  clench  your  hands  and  you 
pray — it  tears  your  heart-strings,  and  it  bursts 
your  brain — but  you  say  that  you  will — that  you 
will — that  you  ivill!  Oh,  God,  that  I  have  left  you 
so  helpless — that  I  did  not  show  you  the  peril  of 
your  soul!  For  you  must  win — oh,  if  I  could  but 
find  a  word  for  you !  For  you  stand  upon  the  brink 
of  ruin,  and  you  have  but  an  instant — but  an  instant 
to  save  yourself — to  call  up  the  vision  of  your  faith 
before  you,  and  tho  the  effort  kill  you,  not  to  let  it 
go!  Girl,  if  you  fail,  no  power  of  earth  or  heaven 
can  save  you  from  despair!  And  oh>  have  I  lived 
with  you  for  nothing — showed  you  no  faith — given 
you  no  power?  Helen,  save  me — have  mercy  upon 
me,  I  cannot  stand  this,  and  I  dare  not — I  dare  not 
die!" 

The  man  was  leaning  forward,  gazing  into  the 
girl's  face,  his  own  countenance  fearful  to  see.  "I 
could  die,"  he  gasped;  "I  could  die  with  a  song — He 

382 


KIXG   MIDAS 

has  shown  me  His  face1 — and  He  is  good!  But  I 
dare  not  leave  you — you — and  I  am  going!  Helen! 
Helen!" 

The  man's  fearful  force  seemed  to  have  been  act 
ing  upon  the  girl  like  magnetism,  for  tho  the  look 
of  wild  suffering  had  not  left  her  face,  she  had 
raised  herself  and  was  staring  into  his  burning  eyes; 
then  suddenly,  with  an  effort  that  shook  her  frame 
she  clenched  her  hands  and  gave  a  gasp  for  breath, 
and  panted,  scarcely  audibly:  "What — can — I— 
do?" 

David's  head  had  sunk,  but  he  mastered  himself 
once  more;  and  he  whispered,  "I  leave  you  to  God — 
I  leave  you  to  life!  You  can  be  a  soul, — you  can 
win — you  must  win,  you  must  live — and  worship — 
and  rejoice!  You  must  kneel  here — here,  while  1 
am  going,  never  more  to  return;  and  you  must  know 
that  you  can  never  see  me  again,  that  I  shall  no 
longer  exist;  and  you  must  cling  to  your  faith  in  the 
God  who  made  you,  and  praise  Him  for  all  that  He 
does!  And  you  will  not  shed  a  tear — not  a  tear!" 

And  his  grip  tightened  yet  more  desperately;  he 
stared  in  one  last  wild  appeal,  and  gasped  again, 
"Promise  me — not  a  tear!" 

And  again  the  throbbing  force  of  his  soul  roused 
the  girl;  she  could  not  speak,  she  was  choking;  but 
she  gave  a  sign  of  assent,  and  then  all  at  once 
David's  fearful  hold  relaxed.  He  gave  one  look 
more,  one  that  stamped  itself  upon  Helen's  soul 
forever  by  its  fearful  intensity  of  yearning;  and 
after  it  he  breathed  a  sigh  that  seemed  to  pant  out 
the  last  inite  of  strength  in  his  frame,  and  sank 

383 


KING  MIDAS 

backwards  upon  the  sofa,  with  Helen  still  clinging 
to  him. 

There  for  an  instant  or  two  he  lay,  breathing 
feebly;  and  the  girl  heard  a  faint  whisper  again — 
"Not  a  tear — not  a  tear!"  He  opened  his  eyes  once 
more  and  gazed  at  her  dimly,  and  then  a  slight 
trembling  shook  his  frame.  His  chest  heaved  once 
more  and  sank,  and  after  it  everything  was  still. 

For  an  instant  Helen  stared  at  him,  dazed;  then 
she  clutched  him  by  the  shoulders,  whispering 
hoarsely — then  calling  louder  and  louder  in  fren 
zied  terror,  "David,  David!"  He  gave  no  answer, 
and  with  a  cry  that  was  fearful  to  hear  the  girl 
clutched  him  to  her.  The  body  was  limp  and  life 
less — the  head  fell  forward  as  if  the  neck  were 
broken;  and  Helen  staggered  backward  with  a 
scream. 

There  came  an  instant  of  fierce  agony  then;  she 
stood  in  the  center  of  the  room,  reeling  and  sway 
ing,  clutching  her  head  in  her  hands,  her  face  up 
turned  and  tortured.  And  first  she  gasped,  "He  is 
dead!-'  and  then  "I  shall  not  ever  see  him  again!" 
And  she  choked  and  swallowed  a  lump  in  her 
throat,  whispering  in  awful  terror,  "Not  a  tear — 
rot  a  tear!"  And  then  she  flung  up  her  arms  and 
sank  forward  with  an  incoherent  cry,  and  fell  sense 
less  into  Arthur's  arms. 


A  week  had  passed  since  David's  death;  and 
Helen  was  in  her  father's  home  once  more,  sitting 
by  the  window  in  the  gathering  twilight.  She  was 
.very  pale,  and  her  eyes  were  sunken  and  hollow; 

384 


KING  MIDAS 

but  the  beauty  of  her  face  was  still  there,  tho  in  a 
strange  and  terrible  way.  Her  hand  was  resting 
upon  Arthur's,  and  she  was  gazing  into  his  eyes 
and  speaking  in  a  deep,  solemn  voice. 

"It  will  not  ever  leave  ine,  Arthur,  I  know  it  will 
not  ever  leave  me;  it  is  like  a  fearful  vision  that 
haunts  me  night  and  day,  a  voice  that  cries  out  in 
my  soul  and  will  not  let  me  rest;  and  I  know  I  shall 
never  again  be  able  to  live  like  other  people,  never 
be  free  from  its  madness.  For  oh,  I  do  not  think  it 
is  often  that  a  human  soul  sees  what  I  saw — he 
seemed  to  drag  me  out  into  the  land  of  death  with 
him,  into  the  very  dwelling-place  of  God.  And  I 
almost  went  with  him,  Arthur,  almost!  Can  you 
dream  what  I  suffered — have  you  any  idea  of  what 
it  means  to  a  human  being  to  make  such  an  effort? 
I  loved  that  man  as  if  he  had  been  my  own  soul; 
I  was  bound  to  him  so  that  he  was  all  my  life,  and 
to  have  him  go  was  like  tearing  my  heart  in  two ;  and 
he  had  told  me  that  I  should  never  see  him  again, 
that  there  was  nothing  to  look  for  beyond  death. 
And  yet,  Arthur,  I  won — do  you  ever  realize  it? — I 
won.  It  seemed  to  me  as  if  the  earth  were  reeling 
about  me — as  if  the  very  air  I  breathed  were  fire; 
and  oh,  I  thought  that  he  was  dead — that  he  was 
gone  from  me  forever,  and  I  believed  that  I  was  go 
ing  mad!  And  then,  Arthur,  those  awful  words  of 
his  came  ringing  through  my  mind,  'Not  a  tear,  not  a 
tear!'  I  had  no  faith,!  could  see  nothing  but  that  the 
world  was  black  with  horror;  and  yet  I  heard  those 
words!  It  was  love — it  was  even  fear,  I  think,  that 
held  me  to  it;  I  had  worshiped  his  sacredness,  I 
had  given  all  my  soul  to  the  wonder  of  his  soul; 
25  385 


KING  MIDAS 

and  I  dared  not  be  false  to  him — I  dared  not  dis 
honor  him, — and  I  knew  that  he  had  told  me  that 
grief  was  a  crime,  that  there  was  truth  in  the 
world  that  I  might  cling  to.  And  oh,  Arthur,  I 
won  it — I  won  it!  I  kept  the  faith — David's  faith; 
and  it  is  still  alive  upon  the  earth.  It  seems  to  me 
almost  as  if  I  had  won  his  soul  from  death — as  if 
I  had  saved  his  spirit  in  mine^— as  if  I  could  still 
rejoice  in  his  life,  still  have  his  power  and  his  love; 
and  there  is  a  kind  of  fearful  consecration  in  my 
heart,  a  glory  that  I  am  afraid  to  know  of,  as  if 
God's  hand  had  been  laid  upon  me. 

"David  used  to  tell  me,  Arthur,  that  if  only  that 
power  is  roused  in  a  soul,  if  only  it  dwells  in  that 
sacredness,  there  can  no  longer  be  fear  or  evil  in 
its  life;  that  the  strife  and  the  vanity  and  the 
misery  in  this  cruel  world  about  us  come  from 
nothing  else  but  that  men  do  not  know  this  vision, 
that  it  is  so  hard — so  dreadfully  hard — to  win. 
And  he  used  to  say  that  this  power  is  infinite,  that  it 
depends  only  upon  how  much  one  wants  it;  and  that 
he  who  possessed  it  had  the  gift  of  King  Midas,  and 
turned  all  things  that  he  touched  to  gold.  That 
is  real  madness  to  me,  Arthur,  and  will  not  let  me 
be  still;  and  yet  I  know  that  it  cannot  ever  die  in 
me;  for  whenever  there  is  an  instant's  weakness 
there  flashes  over  me  again  the  fearful  thought  of 
David,  that  he  is  gone  back  into  nothingness,  that 
nowhere  can  I  ever  see  him,  ever  hear  his  voice  or 
speak  to  him  again, — that  I  am  alone — alone!  And 
that  makes  me  clench  my  hands  and  nerve  my  soul, 
and  fight  again,  and  still  again!  Arthur,  I  did  that 
for  days,  and  did  not  once  know  why — only  because 

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KING  MIDAS 

David  had  told  me  to,  because  I  was  filk 
fearful  terror  of  proving  a  coward  soul, 
I  had  heard  him  say  that  if  one  only  held  the 
and  prayed,  the  word  would  come  to  him  at  . 
And  it  was  true — it  was  true,  Arthur;  it  was  h 
the  tearing  apart  of  the  skies,  it  was  as  if  I  hat. 
rent  my  way  through  them.    I  saw,  as  I  had  never 
dreamed  I  could  see  when  I  heard  David  speak  of 
it,  how  God's  Presence  is  infinite  and  real;  how  it 
guides  the  blazing  stars,  and  how  our  life  is  but  an 
instant  and  is  nothing  beside  it;  and  how  it  makes 
no  difference  that  we  pass  into  nothingness — His 
glory  is  still  the  same.     Then  I  saw  too  what  a 
victory  I  had  won,  Arthur, — how  I  could  live  in  it, 
and  how  I  was  free,  and  master  of  my  life;  there 
came  over  me  a  feeling  for  which  there  is  no  word, 
a  kind  of  demon  force  that  was  madness.    I  thought 
of  that  wonderful  sixth  chapter  of  Isaiah  that  David 
used  to  think  so  much  beyond  reading,  that  he  used 
to  call  the  artist's  chapter;  and  oh,  I  knew  just 
what  it  was  that  I  had  to  do  in  the  world!" 

Helen  had  been  speaking  very  intensely,  her  voice 
shaking;  the  other's  gaze  was  riveted  upon  her  face. 
"Arthur,"  she  added,  her  voice  sinking  to  a  whisper, 
"I  have  no  art,  but  you  have;  and  we  must  fight 
together  for  this  fearful  glory,  we  must  win  this 
prize  of  God."  And  for  a  long  time  the  two  sat  in 
silence,  trembling,  while  the  darkness  gathered 
about  them.  Helen  had  turned  her  head,  and  gazed 
out,  with  face  uplifted,  at  the  starry  shield  that 
quivered  and  shook  above  them;  suddenly  Arthur 
saw  her  lips  moving  again,  and  heard  her  speaking 
the  wonderful  words  that  she  had  referred  to, — 

387 


KING  MIDAS 

her  voice  growing  more  and  more  intense,  and  sink 
ing  into  a  whisper  of  awe: — 

"In  the  year  that  King  Uzziah  died  I  saw  also  the  Lord 
sitting  upon  a  throne,  high  and  lifted  up,  and  his  train  filled 
the  temple. 

"Above  it  stood  the  seraphims:  each  one  had  six  wings; 
with  twain  he  covered  his  face,  and  with  twain  He  covered  his 
feet,  and  with  twain  he  did  fly. 

"And  one  cried  unto  another,  and  said,  Holy,  holy,  holy,  is 
the  Lord  of  hosts:  the  whole  earth  is  full  of  his  glory. 

"And  the  posts  of  the  door  moved  at  the  voice  of  him  that 
cried,  and  the  house  was  filled  with  smoke. 

"Then  said  I,  Woe  is  me!  for  I  am  undone;  because  I  am  a 
man  of  unclean  lips,  and  I  dwell  in  the  midst  of  a  people  of 
unclean  lips:  for  mine  eyea  have  seen  the  King,  the  Lord  of 
hosts. 

"Then  flew  one  of  the  seraphims  unto  me,  having  a  living 
coal  in  his  hand,  which  he  had  taken  with  the  tongs  from  off 
the  altar: 

"And  he  laid  it  upon  my  mouth,  and  said,  Lo,  this  hath 
touched  thy  lips;  and  thine  iniquity  ia  taken  away,  and  thy 
sin  purged. 

"Also  I  heard  the  Toice  of  the  Lord,  saying,  Whom  shall  I 
send,  and  who  will  go  for  us?  Then  said  I,  Here  am  I;  send 
me." 


THE  END 


388 


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